


The Huntsman Was Just Passing

by Fire_Bear



Series: OUAP Mystical Week [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (it doesn't go far so I decided using the warnings wasn't appropriate), (the following refers to Lance/OC), (which is the only bad thing the OC doesn't do), Abusive Relationships, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Communication, Communication Failure, Day 5, Hand Jobs, Hunters & Hunting, Imprisonment, Investigations, Kidnapping, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mystery, OUAPEvent Mystical Week, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-02-28 12:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 59,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: It's Halloween and Lance is looking forward to going to the party with his friends and boyfriend. Jason has other plans and takes him to the woods for some alone time.But will Lance be swapping one wild animal for another?





	1. The Huntsman Was Just Passing

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from [this version](http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/LittRed.shtml#4) of Little Red Riding Hood.
> 
> If you don't like the rather horrible, abusive Jason, you can skip down to the first line break.
> 
> Sorry this is a bit late, by the way - but it is still the 4th somewhere! ^^"

"Jason, come on," groaned Lance from the passenger seat. "Why are we _here_ ? The party's probably started. We're gonna be _late_."

His boyfriend grinned. In his wolf costume, he looked quite dangerous in that moment. A thrill went through Lance and he squirmed a little, hoping Jason wouldn't notice. When Jason glanced at him, Lance stilled and gripped his fake rifle tightly instead. Turning his attention back to the dark road, Jason shrugged a shoulder.

"I mean, I thought you wanted to have fun," Jason said, nonchalantly.

"Well, yeah, _duh_ ," Lance replied, rolling his eyes. "That's why we're going to the _party_ . Parties are _fun_. The middle of the woods at night, isn't."

Chuckling, Jason reached over to squeeze Lance's knee. "Yeah, not _that_ kind of fun."

As Jason's hand ran up Lance's thigh, he suddenly realised what was going on. " _Oh_ ," he breathed, his heart beginning to beat wildly. Jason was right, as usual. Lance _did_ want this. Had wanted this for quite some time. They'd been together for a year, so far, a tentative thing that had sprung out of Lance quite literally bumping into his RA. _Technically_ , they weren't supposed to be dating but they'd agreed to keep it slow.

Which had worked for a month or so as Lance settled into his college routine. He'd been too busy to go on dates or do much other than watch films and fall asleep on Jason's shoulder. But, after that, they'd started making out a lot more. Then they'd ground against each other till they came in their pants. They had swiftly moved onto frotting skin-on-skin and blowjobs and rimming. However, Jason was Lance's first long-term boyfriend and he had never had full-on sex with a guy before. And, since Jason wanted to be on top, they'd been waiting for Lance to feel he was ready.

For a few weeks now, he'd been dithering over it. They would be in the middle of a session in Jason's bed only for Lance to stop them. Up till now, Jason had been a gem, waiting for Lance to come to him and backing off when Lance told him to. Now, though, Jason's spontaneous trip into the woods just outside town – the place everyone knew was where high school and college kids had sex – was turning Lance on. He felt ready for it. Maybe this was what Lance had needed to be comfortable with it.

Hugging his toy rifle to his chest, he let Jason's hand slide between his legs. His legs spread just a little, just enough, and Jason's hand was soon on his cock, coaxing it into hardness. Lance groaned, letting his head fall back. When Jason's hand squeezed him and disappeared so he could change gears, Lance whimpered. "Jason," he pleaded.

Laughing, Jason quickly put his hand back on him, rubbing at the bulge in the brown pants he was wearing. "Sorry, babe. We're almost there so I might need my hand back."

"You can't just get me all excited and then leave me hanging," Lance protested.

"Sorry, sorry. Can I have it back so I can park the car?"

"Urgh, fine."

"Here, maybe this'll help," Jason said and proceeded to roughly rub at Lance, hard and fast. Lance gasped, bucking his hips. His rifle fell down the side between the door and his leg. The hand closest to it, fell with it, his fingers brushing the butt. His other hand clutched at his seat as he tried to seek more friction, hips bucking. Jason laughed as he did so, clearly delighted that he was making Lance react like that. It made Lance blush terribly as he removed his hand and brought the car to a halt.

They had reached the large clearing that people called the make-out spot. Or the sex spot, depending on who you talked to. Apparently, the road was meant for lumberjacks or whoever to bring them closer to their work site but, at night, no-one official went down there. Because of that, however, there were space for several cars. A fallen tree had been cut away to create a turning point but part of its trunk remained. Graffiti covered it and its bark had been somewhat smoothed by people sitting on it – or being fucked on it.

Leaving his headlights on, Jason finished the necessary procedures to make sure his car didn't roll. Then he turned to Lance, grabbed the back of his head (almost knocking off Lance's flat cap), pulled Lance towards him and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. As his tongue delved into Lance's willing mouth, his free hand found its way to Lance's cock, stoking Lance's fire. It didn't take him all that long to shift his hand up, unbutton and unzip the pants and stick his hand down it, finding his way past Lance's underwear. Once Lance felt the direct heat of Jason's hand stroking him, he moaned into the kiss. He tried to speak.

"Jas-mm! We-ah! _Please_. If-If we-mmph. Mmm, ha... gonna- ha! Do it- oh! Oh, Jas-mmph."

Jason seemed to wait until Lance was frantically fucking into his hand before drawing away from Lance's lips. "What's that, babe?" he asked, airily. Somehow, he barely sounded winded.

"If..." Lance paused to draw in a bigger breath, his chest heaving. "If we're gonna do this here, we should go outside. Right?" he added, a little uncertainly when Jason merely stilled his hand in response.

"You're very right, babe," said Jason with a fond smile. "God, you're so good. I just got a little carried away there." Smile widening, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Lance's jaw, slowly beginning to stroke him again. "I love the sounds that you make."

Gasping, Lance came into Jason's hand. He didn't know what it was but, whenever Jason said such nice things about him, it would completely undo Lance. And Jason didn't use the l-word often. Every single time he did, it would catch Lance off guard and he'd come, no matter how long they'd been at it. Breathing heavily, Lance drew away from Jason, embarrassed. That time, he'd come far too early and without any warning.

"S-Sorry," he mumbled, turning his head to stare out of the window.

"It's fine," said Jason, removing his hand. Feeling him brush against his cock as he did so sent tingles running along Lance's body. Carefully, Jason lifted his hand away, revealing that he'd caught possibly all of Lance's cum. "At least you didn't get your pants dirty." His words made Lance smile, grateful he had such a lovely boyfriend, and he glanced over to Jason. Once they'd made eye contact, Jason lifted his hand and began to lick up the mess.

Wide-eyed, Lance watched him, his breathing quickening again and his heart pounding. He could feel himself stirring, eager for more. Gulping, Lance stayed transfixed until Jason had lapped it all up. Once he'd finished, Jason grinned, a tiny bit of cum at the corner of his mouth. Automatically, Lance lifted his finger and scooped it up. Before he could move away, Jason caught his wrist and drew Lance's finger into his mouth, sucking on it. Lance groaned, now half-hard again.

"Let's get out," Jason said, eyes alight. "I wanna hear even more noises when I fuck your pretty little ass."

Lance's breath caught. As Jason opened his door to get out, Lance scrambled for the handle to his. Once he had it, he opened the door and stumbled out, grabbing his rifle as it fell out with him. He kept it with him as he shut the door. Looking around, he saw that Jason was walking towards the log which was bathed in his car's headlights. Glancing up, Lance found that the moon was high in the sky, perfectly round and giving off enough light. He pouted at the fact that Jason had left the headlights on – having sex here would be more romantic in the moonlight. As it was, they were going to fuck like animals in the middle of nowhere... with no-one around... no cars... Just the hooting of the owls and rustling of the leaves as animals moved around and- Was that a howl of an actual wolf?

The nerves had set in, he realised, and he hurried to Jason's side in the hope being near his boyfriend would assuage them. Smiling weakly at him, he got a smirk in return. Jason's hands reached for him and he made to sit down beside Jason. But Jason grabbed hold of his hips and drew Lance over in front of the older man. Once he was situated to his liking, Jason pulled down Lance's pants and underwear and pulled him onto his lap, Lance's legs either side of him. Helpfully, Jason pulled one of Lance's 'workman-style' boots off so he could free one of his legs and they could get comfortable, Lance's clothes hanging from his legs and his rifle resting beside them, propped up against the log.

It made Lance feel far too exposed.

"Are you gonna take your clothes off, too?" Lance asked.

"Mm, in a while," Jason said. "Gotta get you ready for this. You do remember how massive I am, right?"

"Yeah," Lance murmured, a little uncertainly. After all, he _had_ had it in his mouth. Several times. One time he'd even had it in his mouth while Jason's ex – his girlfriend at the time – had been video-calling him from her college across the country. Lance had felt horribly guilty about it but they had started before Jason had accepted the call, sitting at Jason's desk with Lance tucked under it to 'make it even sexier'. When Lance had tried to pull away, Jason had grabbed hold of his hair and pushed him down, down, down till his cock was at the back of Lance's throat and he was choking on it. Seeing no choice but to suck him off, Lance had obediently done so while he listened to his boyfriend happily chat to the woman without even a tremble in his voice. Afterwards, Lance had demanded, in a hoarse voice, that he break up with the poor woman. A week later, Jason told him he had and Lance chose to believe him, despite what Hunk and Pidge said.

Times like those made Lance wonder if they were really good for each other.

A finger prodded at his entrance and Lance made a muffled noise. "You don't have lube," he protested.

"But I opened you up last night, remember?" Jason said, making Lance blush darkly.

"Yeah, but-"

"It's okay," Jason interrupted him. He leaned forward and bit at Lance's earlobe, stealing Lance's breath away. "I'll make it feel good. Don't you wanna feel what it's like raw?"

Squirming, Lance opened his mouth to disagree. At that exact moment, Jason pushed his finger in. The horrible sensation of something dragging within Lance made him cry out – in pain. He lost all of his arousal and knew without looking that he'd gone soft. "No!" he exclaimed. "No, no, stop!"

"Aw, c'mon, bab-"

"I said, _stop_!" Lance yelled and, pushing at Jason's chest, he hastily shifted around and got to his feet till he stood before him. He winced at the sensation being repeated as Jason's finger was torn from him. Stumbling away, Lance came to the realisation that he was alone with Jason, in the middle of the woods, half-naked, wearing a Little Red Riding Hood Hunter costume. Fear pressed down on him and Lance suddenly just wanted to be away. Hurriedly, he stuffed his foot into his pants.

"What? What're you doing?" Jason demanded, sounding annoyed. Lance hated it when he sounded like that. He always felt stupid and useless by the end of the conversation.

"I-I don't wanna do this anymore," he said, secure in the knowledge that Jason would stop. He pulled up his pants, not looking up at Jason. "Let's just go to the party. Hunk and Pidge are gonna look stupid as Little Red Riding Hood and Grandma if we don't go, too. I mean, dontcha wanna see Hunk as Grandma? That'll be-"

"No," said Jason, shortly.

"What?" Lance looked up once he'd zipped up his trousers. Jason was on his feet and, in one step, he was close to Lance. His heart stopped at the fury contorting Jason's face.

"No, you're not getting out of this one."

"What?"

Before Lance could make sense of what was happening, Jason grabbed his arm. He opened his mouth to protest but Jason pulled him around until he was facing the log. Jason was behind him and, suddenly, Lance felt panicked, even more so when Jason pushed him down onto his knees. An arm went across the back of Lance's neck and he was forced down until he was bent over the log. Crying out, Lance scrambled against the log for purchase but Jason's entire weight was on top of him and he couldn't get him off.

"I'm gonna fuck you – finally – and then I can get back to Lucy."

"Lucy?" Lance whispered, recognising the name of Jason's ex.

"Yeah. She's waiting for me at that party – as a sexy Little Red. She'll be good for me and let me fuck her – without all this stupid 'let's wait' nonsense."

Lance froze, unable to believe it. As he stared, dazed, at the grass in front of him, he felt Jason use his free hand to cup him through his pants, rubbing at him. Despite everything, Lance's body reacted and he felt himself hardening. Jason felt it too and abandoned his ministrations to begin undoing Lance's pants.

Then Lance's brain seemed to kick into overdrive. Hunk had been right about it being too quick for him to have broken up with his girlfriend. Pidge had been right about Jason only wanting sex. Everyone had been right and he hadn't listened. And now... Now this asshole was trying to rape him. Rage coursed through Lance and he began to feel around, looking for a weapon. By the time he found one, Jason had his hand around Lance's cock and was squeezing and rubbing at it so roughly that Lance didn't feel even a smidgeon of enjoyment.

However, when he swung his fake rifle up and into the side of Jason's head, hard, Lance _definitely_ enjoyed that.

“Argh!” Jason grunted as he fell sideways. His weight shifted and Lance was able to wriggle out from under him. Scrambling away, Lance ended up on his feet at the other end of the log. “What the _fuck_?!” Jason growled, getting to his feet as well.

“You're an asshole!” Lance snapped. “And when I see Lucy, I’m gonna tell her what you’ve been doing!”

Jason's eyes narrowed. “You wouldn't dare,” he said in a dangerously quiet voice. With the ridiculously furry onesie and the sharply pointed ears, Jason looked almost wild.

Swallowing, Lance forced the fear away. “You deserve it,” he said, cursing the fact that his voice sounded so small. “You told me you'd broken up with her. You told me you _cared_ about me! I thought you-”

“You thought what?” growled Jason. He smirked. “Did you think I _loved_ you?” He laughed, the sound so cruel that Lance flinched. “I’m sorry to break it to you, _babe_ , but the only reason we’ve been ‘dating’” - Lance could practically _see_ the quotation marks - “was because I wanted to fuck you as soon as I saw you. And you couldn't even do _that_ right?”

Lance was so shocked that he almost caved. There was a part of him that wanted to make Jason happy. He knew Jason could have him coming in no time, like he was perfectly in tune with Lance's body. Thankfully, a larger part of him was furious and he shoved aside those burgeoning emotions.

“I may not have bent over for you like you wanted me to,” Lance hissed, “but I won't mess up when I tell Lucy about this. When I tell her how you really- Where are you going?”

Not bothering to look at him, Jason clambered over the log. Once he was on the side his car was, he stalked towards it. Lance watched him in confusion, wondering why Jason had abandoned the idea of convincing Lance to let him fuck him. A part of Lance knew that, if he told him the right lie, Lance would let him. He gritted his teeth and watched as Jason opened his car door, beginning to grow alarmed. Did Jason have something to tie him up with? Had he planned to fuck him whether he wanted to or not?

“I won't let you,” Jason told him.

“What?”

“I won't let you mess Lucy up for me. So you can just stay here. I’ll come back for you tomorrow some time.”

“ _What_?!” cried Lance.

Jason's smirk was sickening. “If you’ve change your mind by then, maybe we can keep on hanging out.” And Jason climbed into his car.

Lance stared in shock as Jason started the engines. It took him a few moments to process what was going on and it wasn't until Jason began to drive around the log that he understood. Jason was abandoning him altogether. Crying out, Lance rushed to the passenger side door as Jason swung the car around, uncaring of the fact that he was missing a boot and his pants were sliding down. He banged on the door, grabbed the handle and- It was locked. Lance tried a couple more times, keeping up with the car. When he looked through the window, he saw Jason's amused look, his eyebrow raised as if to prompt Lance. Sadly, Lance shook his head and Jason drove off, leaving Lance in darkness.

At least, it would have been dark if it wasn't for the full moon, the lighting no longer romantic. Trembling, Lance returned to the log and slumped onto it. For a while, Lance just breathed, the silence thundering in his ears. Then he slumped forward, head in his hands as he wept.

The only sounds besides him taking shuddering breaths were the calls of the owls, the rustling of the leaves, the crackling of dead leaves as animals moved through the forest and… the distant howl of a wolf.

* * *

Eventually, Lance calmed. He wiped his eyes, sorted out his pants and found his other boot. Once he was properly dressed and, with his trusty toy rifle in hand, Lance turned to the road. He wasn't about to wait for the asshole to come back. Jason didn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing Lance at his lowest or gloating to Lance as he drove him home. Besides, Lance knew that, if he waited for Jason to come back, he'd probably try talking Lance into letting the whole thing go and he didn't want that either.

So Lance would get himself home. Briefly, he considered calling Hunk to come get him. But he didn't want to ruin the night or worry him. Or make a fuss and he knew Hunk would make a _fuss_. And there was no way he was telling his brother in the next town what had happened - he did _not_ want his family interfering. And his mom would be _pissed_.

But he couldn't walk along the road. His outfit was dark and he'd end up being run over. There weren't even any lights until he reached town and he was a couple of miles out, at least.

The solution occurred to him when he heard another of those howls.

There was a path which meandered through the forest. Technically, it was a tourist trail but a beaten, unofficial path branched off of it and made its way to the make-out spot. If he took the path, he'd be able to reach town in an hour or so. Then he could head to the party and save Lucy from her jackass boyfriend.

Checking his pockets, Lance breathed a sigh of relief when he found his phone and wallet hadn't fallen out during… that. As he tapped the button on the phone, he noticed that both Hunk and Pidge had texted him, wondering where he was. Feeling guilty, he ignored them and put the torch on instead. The bright light cut through the shadows created by the moon. Relief flowed through Lance and, once he’d located the start of the path, he began to make his way along it.

Leaves rustled underfoot. Twigs snapping, surprising him and making him jump. Nervously, he chuckled to himself, keeping his voice down. There was no knowing what was in these woods. Of course, as soon as he thought that, a howl came from just ahead. Lance stopped, shining his torch around. His heart was hammering, the fear he’d felt earlier returning.

“This is the worst Halloween ever,” he muttered to himself when nothing else happened.

He moved off, making good progress. Or so he hoped. The makeshift path still had grass and weeds growing from it and, several times, he thought he was walking along it only to find it again crossing over the way he was going. The only way to know the difference were the dropped packets of condoms nestled among the blades of grass. He even found a bra hanging from a tree. Lance raised an eyebrow at that, wondering how something like that could be left behind.

It had only been a few minutes after the last howl when Lance heard the terrified, pained scream.

He halted, eyes wide. It had sounded close. Lance's heart pounded. Then he recalled how close he was to the make-out spot and what had happened to him not that long ago. Frowning, Lance headed off the path in the direction he thought the scream had come from, holding the rifle up as if it was a real gun with his torch pointed at the ground. It took quite some time but he eventually emerged from the trees into a small space. Not quite a clearing, it nevertheless let the moonlight shine down on the scene before him.

A young woman in a sexy Little Red Riding Hood costume - _Lucy?_ Lance wondered - lay on the ground, her upper body propped up by the thick root of a tree. Her hood had fallen back to reveal pretty, curled blonde hair. The skirt was so short that, with the way she had fallen, Lance could see her knickers. The most alarming part, however, was the fact that her chest had been ripped open, blood staining the white part of the dress.

Horrible chewing noises drew Lance's wide eyes to the creature which was hunched before her. At first, Lance couldn't figure out what it was. All he could make out was the dark fur. Then he saw the bloodied snout and the pointed ears and the thick tail and he knew.

It was a wolf. A massive, vicious wolf.

Lance's heart stopped. What was he supposed to do in this situation? It was clear the poor woman was dead, her basket useless in protecting her where it lay beside her. He held his breath as he felt the bile rise in the back of his throat. For a few moments, he stayed perfectly still. But it was apparent that the wolf hadn't noticed him. Lance realised he must be downwind of the wolf.

Heart racing, Lance began to back off. He would have to get back to the path and make his way to town. Then he could get the police or animal control or people with _actual guns_ or-

A twig snapped under Lance's foot. He froze. The noises from the wolf stopped. Trembling, his rifle still pointed uselessly at the creature, Lance watched in horror as the wolf lifted his head and slowly turned towards him. Dark eyes stared straight at him. Nothing moved.

Then Lance dropped to his knees as the wolf leapt at him, ducking his head just in time to avoid being hit. The wolf went soaring overhead but it was quick to bound around to face him again. Dropping his rifle and phone, Lance scrambled away from the animal, crawling towards the body without thinking. “Please,” he pleaded despite knowing it would do no good. “Please don't kill me!”

When he ventured to look up at the wolf, he almost had a heart attack. Its snarling jaws were inches from Lance's face, bloody drool dripping from between its sharp teeth. Lance couldn't help whimpering at the sight. The wolf growled and Lance cowered, ducking his head down as if that would stop it wanting to eat him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a snuffling sound which came closer until Lance could feel something ruffling his hair. A waft of air blew across his face and Lance got a whiff of meat that had gone off.

Turning aside, Lance retched and threw up. The girl's body was close by and he wished he could move away. But the wolf stood in front of him, his gaze never leaving Lance. Once Lance finished vomiting, he straightened up and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his blue, flannel shirt.

The wolf stared at him. Lance swallowed. Why hadn't it attacked yet? When nothing happened, Lance slowly and carefully shifted so that his legs were under him. The wolf quietly growled, a low noise which set the hairs on Lance's arms on end. Since it wasn't loud enough to be worrying, Lance ignored the wolf's warning, though he kept his eyes on it. Carefully, hesitantly, Lance leaned against a tree and used it to lever himself up. When the wolf didn't maul him to death, Lance relaxed slightly, shifting so that the tree was to his back.

“Right,” he said and the wolf's ears perked up, swivelling in his direction. “Well… This has been nice and everything,” Lance told it. “But I should probably be going.” The growl suddenly increased in volume. Hastily, Lance added, “I-I’m not gonna do anything to you. I’m just gonna go home.” Lowering his voice, Lance kept his voice in the same calming tone as he muttered to himself, “And get the cops up here.”

Without any warning whatsoever, the wolf leapt at him, shoving him to the ground. Lance landed on his back with the wolf using all its weight on Lance's chest to hold him down. The wolf's mouth was even closer and it glared down at him. Panic and fear hit Lance and he began to yell and struggle. Since his arms were free, he tried pushing at the animal but the wolf merely used two of its massive paws to pin them down, letting his legs kick uselessly.

It was at that moment that Lance realised that this wolf was far bigger than any he had ever seen in TV shows or that one time at the zoo. That was why he hadn't realised what he was seeing when he walked into the scene. Slumping in defeat, Lance stared up at it with watery eyes. “What… What are you?” he whispered, voice trembling.

For some bizarre reason, the wolf stopped growling. It still stared at him but, after a while, it's ears lowered. Tilting its head, the wolf seemed to Lance to be puzzled. Or maybe asking Lance a question? He didn't know. Frankly, Lance was exhausted. He just wanted to go _home_.

“Let me go,” he said, tugging at his arms.

The wolf barked, the loud noise making Lance flinch. Then the wolf moved its head down. Lance screamed, convinced he was going to die, all the more so when the wolf’s mouth opened. Panicking, Lance shifted and squirmed and-

He stilled, staring down at his chest. Instead of ripping his head off as Lance had expected, the wolf had clamped its jaws around Lance's shirt. Lance didn't even feel the points of his teeth. Clambering off Lance, the wolf pulled Lance's shirt with him. Lance scrambled to try to get away but he was caught and was quickly lifted up to dangle from the wolf's jaws. Desperate, Lance hit at its snout with his fists, yelling at the thing.

Growling, the wolf shook his head, throwing Lance about. With his eyes watering, Lance felt tears fall. Lip trembling, he tried to reason with the animal, even though he knew it wouldn't understand. "Please," he gasped as he flew through the air. "Please sto-"

There was a ripping sound and, suddenly, Lance was free. He soared through the air and hit another tree, back first. The force he hit it with slammed his head into the trunk and he instantly felt dizzy and light-headed. Lance slid down until he landed amongst the roots in a heap. The wolf turned its head towards him, ears pointing upwards, a piece of his stupid shirt trapped in its teeth. As it padded towards him, Lance gave up. All his energy was gone and felt like he was falling. His sight went blurry as he watched the wolf's ears flatten and its tail drop down between its legs.

Lance passed out to the sound of a whine.

* * *

His cheek was pressed into a stone floor. With a throbbing pain in his head, he almost didn't notice the ache in his neck and back. Pins and needles ran up the arm he was lying on. Groaning, Lance rolled onto his stomach and threw up. He hoped the person whose house this was wouldn't mind the mess, seeing as he seemed to be... in the cellar?

Squinting, Lance looked around, taking in the bricks of the wall, the slabs of the floor, the wooden steps, the lack of windows, the dim lightbulb and... Lance tried to scramble to his feet, felt dizzy and crawled as quickly as he could into a corner, as far from the stairs as possible. Attached to the walls were several chains. Though Lance wasn't chained up, it might be only a matter of time...

What the hell had happened last night? He forced himself to remember, wincing at the pain. He had gone to a party... A Halloween party. He'd decided to dress up with his friends and boyfriend as the characters from Little Red Riding Hood. He was the hero, of course, the Hunter, with Jason as a sexy Wolf, Hunk as the kind grandmother and Pidge as a 'kick-ass' (according to her) Red Riding Hood. She'd forbidden them to call her Little.

But he couldn't remember their costumes. What had made Pidge's costume 'kick-ass'? How funny had Hunk looked as Grandma? Had the Hunter abandoned his duty and made out with the Wolf? He didn't remember anyone else's costumes? How drunk had he been?

With the back of his head still hurting, he reached up to rub at it without thinking. He yelped when his fingers brushed against a wound there. Panicking, he brought his hand back around and stared down at the tiny amount of red adorning his fingers. He was bleeding. Something had knocked him on the head. He'd been knocked out. Why...?

Snatches of memories came to him. Jason wanting to do something fun. Driving into the woods. Coming into Jason's hand. Jason licking his cum from his hand, eyes focussed on Lance. The pain of Jason sticking his finger in him without lube. Being forced over the log.

Crying out, Lance quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. Had Jason taken him somewhere after he'd...? Was this some sort of pervert's house? Heartache made his breath catch and he reached up to grip his shirt. Instead of finding the flannel material, though, he found a hole and he gazed down at himself, confused.

Dark forest. Full moon. Wolf. Dead woman, chest ripped open. Dripping jaws. Teeth ripping. Fear.

Tears dripped onto Lance's hand. He didn't understand how he'd gotten here but he knew that he wasn't safe. Whoever had brought him here had probably found him beside the body of that poor woman. Maybe they were going to threaten him or force him to do something in return for 'covering up the murder'. Or maybe they had found him, still alive, and they had decided to have their with him when they had the time. Or maybe the wolf was somehow a pet of someone who was going to do what Jason almost had.

Curling up, Lance sobbed into his knees. He ached to go home. Hunk and Pidge would be worried. What was he going to do?

A door rattled above him and Lance looked up. Light shone onto the wall just above the railing of the staircase and he realised that someone was coming down. As his heart raced, Lance decided that he wouldn't give up. He was going to fight and get home. Looking around, he quietly cursed as he noticed that there was nothing he could use as a weapon. Taking a deep breath, Lance used the wall to lever himself up as the person descended the stairs. By the time whoever it was had got to the bottom, Lance stood in the middle of the room, trying to ignore the fact that he was swaying.

"Who the hell are you?" Lance snapped when the person stood in the shadows for a moment. "What do you want with me?"

Sudden movement made Lance flinch. A man stepped into the light. He had long, shaggy black hair which looked a mess. Dark eyes glared at him, his lips pulled down in a frown. There were dark circles under those eyes, made more obvious by his pale skin: it ruined his good looks. For some awful reason, he was wearing red flannel and baggy black jeans. He wasn't wearing shoes or socks. In one hand, he held a first aid kit while, in the other, he had a pair of kitchen tongs.

"Where's the silver?" the man demanded instead of answering him.

Lance blinked. "What silver?" he asked, momentarily thrown.

"The silver bullets," the man snapped. "I know you have some, just like your mentor or whoever she was."

"Mentor? Who-? Wait, silver bullets? What are you talking about?"

Alarmingly, the man growled. "Don't toy with me, Hunter!" he yelled.

Stepping back, Lance stared at him. "Hunt-?" He paused, his eyes widening. " _I'm_ not a hunter. And what do you _mean_ , silver bullets-" Lance stopped, gasping as he stepped back again.

Stepping closer, the man frowned deeper. "No," he said. "Don't-"

"You're a _werewolf_ ? A _werewolf_ ." Lance gasped again. "Oh, my God! You're that huge wolf! That huge _werewolf_ ?! _Werewolves_ are a thing?!"

" _Fuck_ ," said the man.

"But... then... why have you brought me here?" Lance demanded. He took another step back. "Are you gonna turn me?!" he exclaimed.

The man – werewolf – sighed. "No. I'm not." He held up the first aid kit. "But I need to bandage up your head." Striding towards Lance, the man's determined expression unnerved him.

"No! Don't touch me! What the hell do you want with me?!"

Again, the man stopped. "I don't know," he admitted. "When I'm in my wolf state, I don't have much control over my actions. I have no idea why you're still alive or why I brought you here. But it's clear you're not a Hunter."

"Then... Then I can go home?" said Lance, hopefully.

"No," said the werewolf, firmly. "I can't let you go."

"Why not?" Lance demanded.

"What will you do as soon as you get back to town?"

"Well, I'll..." Lance stopped. What _would_ he do? He wanted desperately to go home. But he couldn't just abandon that woman who was now dead. And Jason... Clearly, there was only one thing he could do. "I'd go to the cops," he began.

"And I can't let you bring people into the forest, searching for us. People will bring out the pitchforks but _they'll_ be the ones to get hurt." The man moved towards Lance again and Lance backed up, beginning to get worried. "Stay still," he ordered. "I still need to treat you."

"What, so you can keep me here forever?" Lance demanded. "You can't just do that!"

"I wasn't planning-"

"Let me go!" Lance demanded and attempted to dodge around the werewolf. But, whatever magic made the guy into a werewolf granted him incredible speed and the man lunged forward into Lance's space so suddenly that Lance gave a little scream. Terrified, Lance tried to back off and found himself pressed against the wall. The werewolf's hand slammed into the bricks on the other side of him, the entire structure seeming to vibrate from the impact. Lance's eyes went wide as he struggled to breathe in his panic.

"Calm. Down," the man told him, his dark eyes pinning Lance where he stood.

"Let... Let-" Lance tried to say.

"Enough! You shouldn't have been out in the woods at night!"

The memory of being with Jason was so forceful that Lance turned his head, tears pricking at his eyes. He refused to cry in front of this stranger, though, and held them back as best he could. However, his head was still aching and now it was whirling with questions and stress and- His knees buckled and he slid down the wall till he was sitting with his knees bent. For a moment, the werewolf loomed over him, just as intimidating as he was in his wolf form. Then he knelt beside Lance and began to open the first aid kit.

"Don't touch me," Lance said, letting as much hatred seep into his voice as he had the energy for.

That made the werewolf pause – but only for a moment as he began to pull out antiseptic cream and bandages. Lance's breathing quickened, aware that the man was about to touch him, even if it _was_ to help him. All he could think about was being trapped here, never seeing the sun or the ocean or his family or his friends. He even missed Jason and, at that precise moment, he couldn't tell who he'd rather be with. Biting his lip, he turned his head away again as the man reached for him.

Oddly, the man paused when he did that. "What's your name?" he asked.

Considering his options, Lance decided he'd rather not be called 'boy' or 'prey'. "Lance," he mumbled.

"Huh. Well, my name's Keith."

"Hmph."

Gently, Keith pushed his head down. Lance remembered the way Jason would force him onto his knees and then he remembered the log and- He panicked. With a yell, he tried to scramble away, heart racing. But Keith seemed to anticipate this and his hand clamped down on Lance's arm. He pulled him back to the ground so that Lance was half-sprawled in his lap. Forcing his head down, Keith parted his hair, not being as careful as before. Sharp, stinging pain made Lance cry out and, by the time Keith had dabbed some of the cream onto his wound, Lance's tears were dripping onto the stone floor. Finally, he let Lance up and Lance crawled away, his head spinning from the pain.

"I'm sorry," said Keith. He sounded annoyed rather than sincere and Lance turned his head to glare at him, uncaring of the tears. "You should've stayed still."

"I told you not to touch me!" Lance snapped.

Keith's eyes dragged over him. Once again, he frowned. "Why _were_ you in the woods? And why are you dressed like a hunter if you aren't one? You even had a gun."

"It's called a _costume_ , Mullet-For-Brains. I was on my way to a _party_. Y'know, for _Halloween_. And that gun was a _toy_."

"Oh. Sorry."

Lance opened his mouth to say something but paused and frowned as well. "Wait. How do you remember that? You were a wolf. You said you didn't know-"

"No," said Keith, shortly. "I'm not getting into this with you. The less you know, the better." He lifted the bundle of bandages. "Are you gonna let me put these on you?"

This time, Lance let him come closer, staying as still as possible. Keith didn't push his head down, sitting up on his knees instead so he could wrap the bandages around. That helped, since Lance didn't think much of Jason as he did it. In fact, Lance actually thought he was nicer than Jason in that moment and was kind of glad he was in the werewolf's basement. He grimaced at that thought and was infinitely glad that Keith backed off after he'd finished.

"There," Keith said as he handed Lance some painkillers. As he hadn't brought down any water, Lance was forced to swallow them dry. Keith packed his things away as he took several tries to do that. "You should get some proper sleep."

"I'm not tired," Lance lied. He actually felt pretty exhausted. His thoughts kept coming back to Jason, trying to work out his feelings about him and what he'd done. Fear kept coming and going and was making him jumpy. Being in a werewolf's basement was not helping matters. Nor was the head wound which, now that medicine was in the mix, was making his thoughts muddled.

"Go to sleep, Lance," said Keith, sounding almost kind. He stood and began to walk off.

"Wait. Wait, where are you going?"

Looking over his shoulder, Keith shrugged. "I have to go make an important phone call."

"You can't just leave me down here!" Lance protested.

Keith stared at him for a moment. Now that he knew Keith was a werewolf, Lance could see the same animalistic intensity in his eyes as the wolf's. His heartbeat quickened and Lance wasn't entirely sure it was just fear. "Don't bother trying the door," Keith told him. "I'm going to lock it behind me and there are a lot of locks."

And he walked off. Lance stared after him in shock. By the time he thought to stand, Keith was already heading up the stairs. Lance tried to follow him but taking only a few steps made him dizzy and he had to lean against the wall. Once it had passed, Lance straightened, intending to try going up the stairs and overpowering Keith. But he heard the door swing closed and, before he could find it in himself to move, he also heard several locks clicking or scraping closed.

That was when Lance realised that this was where Keith came when it was the full moon. Lance looked at the chains and imagined Keith being wrapped in them, imagined him changing, imagined the wolf howling in this place. He shuddered and slid down the wall, curling against it as he let himself cry, absolutely terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I really shouldn't have started doing this week thing - I now have too many stories to continue. ^^")


	2. He Was Out of Bed And Swallowed Up

Lance woke on a hard stone floor once more. The only difference was the fact that his head was resting on a pillow with one side of his face smushed into it and a blanket covered him. This time, he also remembered what had happened. With his head throbbing, he pushed himself upright, keeping the surprisingly soft, fluffy blanket wrapped around him.

He blinked when he spotted something else different: there were other items set a safe distance away from any flailing limbs. A jug of water with a glass beside it. In a little box was some Advil. When he pulled a covered plate towards him, he found a selection of sandwiches. Beside that was a book, a flashlight to read it by and a packet of batteries. A large, weird pot sat further away and Lance took a guess at its function – and was not happy at the thought.

With nothing else to do, Lance dragged his aching body towards the items. He took some Advil, gulped down some more water, ate, and scrubbed at his face with water. Once done, he had to force himself to his feet and stagger to the pot so he could pee. Afterwards, he carefully made his way back to snatch up the flashlight and book. He checked the flashlight worked before looking at the book.

He stared at it. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” he muttered, frowning at it.

Annoyed, Lance made his way to the stairs and stomped up them. Once at the door (which looked solid, unfortunately), Lance began to hammer on it, pounding his fist in several rapid bursts. “Hey!” he shouted. “ _Hey_!” During a pause in his noise-making, Lance heard hurried footsteps coming closer. When he gauged that Keith or someone had arrived just outside the door, Lance made sure to hit the door several more times and shout, “Hey!”

“What _is_ it?!” Keith snapped from the other side of the thick wooden barrier.

“Did you seriously give me Twilight to read?” Lance demanded.

“You seem like the type of person to like that sort of thing,” said Keith, dryly.

“Fuck you,” Lance snapped. “At least get me something with a bit of comedy or a better romance. And, Jesus Christ, nothing with _werewolves_ in it.”

He heard Keith sigh. “Fine.”

“And I want new clothes,” Lance added, testing his luck.

“I don't have any in your size.”

“Go buy some, _duh_.”

“We're in the-” Keith began but stopped himself. There was a short pause before Keith said, “I can't right now.”

“Why not?” asked Lance, wondering what Keith had been about to say.

“None of your business,” came Keith's swift, almost automatic reply. “Are you done?”

“Hell no,” Lance answered. “Some _soap_ would be nice. And a bath. Or, y'know, you could let me upstairs to have a shower or something.”

“No. Not doing that.”

“Tsk. At least give me a face mask or two, maybe some cleanser and a moisturiser of some sort. I so do not want to break out into spots because of a _werewolf_.”

“Moisturiser?” Keith sounded incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Well, the only other thing I want is to _go home_ ,” Lance snapped. “The least you can do is help me to _not smell_.”

“Urgh, _fine_!” Keith snapped and Lance heard him stamping his feet as he left.

“Hey!” Lance shouted after him, feeling panicked. “Hey, I’m not finished!” He slammed his hand into the door several times till his palm ached. On the verge of tears again, Lance kicked the door and stomped down the stairs, stopping halfway down to sink onto one of the steps, chewing on his lip to keep from sobbing.

* * *

Lance spent the next however long ripping the pages from the book and trying to make origami cranes. Several of his attempts lay around him. If he was being honest, he didn't know what to do but he'd managed to make them look _nearly_ right. As he worked on his latest attempt, he wondered if he could convince Keith to give him one of the other Twilight books until he had a thousand of them. Maybe he could wish his way home.

He had retreated to where the other items were in order to finish off the water so, when the door opened again, he looked over at the staircase, staring at where the light shone on its bare wall. Briefly, Lance considered rushing over but he figured that Keith would reach the bottom before he got there and he was fairly sure Keith had superhuman strength. And there was the speed thing, obviously. Staying silent, he watched Keith's shadowy form make its way down the stairs and step into the light. Lance's eyes were instantly drawn to what Keith had in his hands; a bundle of things seemingly wrapped in some sort of clothing and set inside a basin.

"This is all I have," Keith told him. Cautiously, Keith lowered the pile several feet from where Lance sat.

Glaring at him, Lance waited until he'd backed off to investigate. First, there was the book, one apparently called Howling Mad. It was pretty thin and had a cover reminiscent of books made just before the turn of the century. Lance had never heard of it and, when he flipped it over to look at the blurb, he found that it was rather short. He frowned down at it and set it aside. Then he picked up a flask which was far too hot to touch for any length of time. Lance hurriedly put it down and looked up at Keith with a raised eyebrow.

"Hot water," Keith said, shortly. "To wash yourself with."

"That's _it_?!" Lance exclaimed.

"It'll fill the basin."

Sighing, Lance plucked out an indiscriminate bar of soap. He wrinkled his nose at it and placed it on top of the book. The next thing he picked up was a bottle of shampoo which only seemed half-full and was of a very, _very_ cheap brand. Lance stared at in dismay for a moment before he put that out of the way, too. A little tub of Clearasil pads was next and Lance sighed heavily when he saw it.

Finally, he reached the bundle of clothes and pulled out the first thing, pushing himself to his feet so that he could see if they would fit. A pair of jeans, far too baggy for him and a little too long was first. He would have to roll them up at the bottom and he'd look ridiculous. A wide belt had been provided in order to hold them up. Lance tried not to scream in frustration. The only other thing was a large, black hoodie with a white, upside-down v on it. It was far bigger than Lance and also far too big for Keith.

"Where the hell did you get _this_?" Lance demanded, frowning at him.

"That's none of _your_ business," Keith replied. He glanced over to where Lance had been sitting. "And stop ripping up my books."

"Then give me decent ones!" Lance cried, throwing his arms in the air and almost suffocating himself when the hoodie flapped against his face. He dropped it in distaste. "And stop with the werewolf ones." Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith. "You're getting a kick out of it, aren't you? Forcing me to read books about werewolves, probably trying to condition me into thinking you're not all that bad."

Keith smirked at him. "Oh? I haven't even given you the more _racy_ ones."

"'Racy'?" Lance repeated, incredulously. Keith didn't reply, only shook his head and turned on his heel. Lance was quick to follow him. "Wait a minute, what d'ya mean, 'racy'? Why the hell do you even have 'racy' werewolf books?" He paused and frowned up the stairs at Keith. "Wait, why d'ya have werewolf fiction, anyway?"

"Go wash up, Lance," said Keith in a tired voice.

"Don't- Don't you tell me what to do!" Lance yelled, starting up the stairs and jabbing a finger in Keith's direction. "And let me the fuck _go_ already!"

Not deigning to answer Lance, Keith turned only to swing the door shut. The last Lance saw of him was of Keith's jaw flexing as he gritted his teeth, his eyes warily eyeing him. Keith didn't waste any time in locking the door and Lance could already hear them clicking into place as he reached the door.

"Fuck you, Keith!" he shouted and kicked the door again. All he got in answer was the scraping sound of another lock sliding into place.

* * *

Despite his frustration, Lance returned to the basin and flask. Since the hot water would only stay as such for so long, he opted to do as he had been told to (not _for_ the werewolf, never for _him_ ) and wash up. He used the shampoo first, grimacing at the unusual feel of it in his hair. Then he moved onto washing his body, constantly glancing at the door as he undressed and tried to wash everywhere with the bar of soap. Once he'd finished and dressed, he even used the Clearasil.

There was nothing else to do after that so Lance resigned himself to reading the book. Time passed and he was soon finished. He stared down at it: he hadn't smiled once. Throwing it across the room, Lance stomped up the stairs and resumed banging on the door and shouting. This time, Keith didn't answer and Lance was left with a sore throat and very little water to help him.

With nothing else to do, Lance fluffed up the pillow folded the blanket and lay on top of them, trying to make the floor softer. He closed his eyes and thought hard. In order to get out of a werewolf’s basement, Lance needed a plan. There wasn't much in the way of weapons, just the makeshift chamber pot and the jug. Well, there was the plate as well…

Heart pounding, Lance scrambled to his feet and grabbed the plate. He threw like a frisbee at the opposite wall and it shattered into several pieces. As quick as he could - just in case Keith had heard and would come to investigate - he crossed the room and shifted the shards around. Once he'd found one large enough for him to hold like a knife, he grinned and went back to his ‘bed’.

Now he had a weapon. The mostly empty jug could be used as a distraction. All he needed was a way to get Keith to come down the stairs. There were a couple of things he could say to lure him in, of course, but which would be best?

He gave himself a few moments to collect himself, using the time to roll up the bottoms of the jeans and make sure the belt would keep his pants up. The hoodie was left to flop over his hands, concealing the shard. Ready for action, Lance climbed the stairs.

“Hey!” he shouted, banging on the door again. “I’ve run out of water! And you need to empty out that pot – it stinks down here!”

Pausing to listen, Lance was a little alarmed that there seemed to be no response. He resumed his banging and yelling. Soon, he had shouted himself hoarse - and there was still no response. The lack of one made Lance begin to panic. Had Keith left him in the basement to go somewhere? Was he in this house on his own? He didn't have much water and there was no sink for him to get fresh water for drinking.

“Help!” he called out, sounding a little weak. “Help, I’m in here!” He banged the door several more times for good measure but still no-one answered. “Please!” Lance tried one last time before he stumbled down the stairs a few steps and collapsed onto a step, his arms and legs shaking. He leaned his head against the wall and cried himself into a fitful sleep with dreams of Jason touching him and werewolf howls.

When he jolted awake next, it was to a noise on the other side of the door. Lance jolted to his feet and hurried up the few steps to the door. “Hey,” he called out, his voice so hoarse he had to clear it and try again. “Hey. Keith. You there?”

A pitiful whine answered him. It was swiftly followed by a snarl, a growl - and something slammed into the door. Startled, Lance hurriedly backed away, almost falling down the stairs till he grabbed hold of the bannister. Was that a wolf? Had Keith transformed again? But the full moon was the night before - surely he shouldn't have done it again?

Another whine sounded, louder than the first. To Lance, it sounded distressed. His heart seemed to clench though he admonished himself for even feeling anything but hatred for the thing. But the whine went on with a couple of softer bangs to the door. Biting his lip, Lance cautiously made his way closer. As he did so, the whine became a growl before morphing back into a whine. It was almost as if the wolf didn't know how to feel about Lance being in its territory.

Pressing his hand to the door, Lance took a shaky breath and said, “Hey. It’s okay.”

The wolf whimpered.

“I’ll be out of your basement soon. He can't keep me here forever.”

A growl came from the other side of the door, growing in volume.

“I-I mean.” Lance scrambled to think of something to placate the wolf. “He’s doing a good job of keeping me here.” That seemed to work as the growl subsided. “Though he could’ve left me more water before he disappeared.” That made the wolf whine again – Lance thought it sounded a little apologetic.

Calmed somewhat by the responsiveness of the wolf to his words, Lance began to talk to it. At first, he complained about Keith. Then he told the wolf about his life: studying theatre and music at the local college; a bit about his family; Hunk and Pidge, his best friends who would be looking for him. That last topic devolved into describing the different ways in which they would save him and admonishing the wolf when it growled at each one.

Their ‘conversation’ seemed to go on for hours until, suddenly, a thumping of the door startled Lance from where he sat, leaning against it. Another whine started up growing louder till it seemed to recede. Concerned, Lance said, “Are you okay?” Of course, there was no answer, just a distant howl.

When nothing else happened, Lance descended the stairs once more, exhausted and thirsty. He finished off the last of the water and settled down to sleep. It didn't come to him as quickly as he thought it would as he lay there, pondering on what had just happened. Did Keith change every time the moon shone? Why hadn't the wolf properly attacked the door? Had it understood anything Lance had said?

After a while, he drifted off to sleep. His dreams were filled with leering, wolf-shaped Jasons and Keith holding him down…

* * *

Lance was woken by the noise of the door opening. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, rubbing them and trying to remember what was going on. By the time Keith made his appearance at the bottom of the stairs, Lance had gotten to his feet, clutching the shard of plate. It was time to make his escape.

This time, Keith came forward with a jug of fresh water and a first aid kit. “I need to change your bandages,” he explained when Lance eyed it.

Briefly, Lance considered enacting his plan. But he was terribly thirsty and his head was aching again. So he folded the blanket and sat on it, arms crossed as he glared at Keith.

The werewolf took this as an acquiescence and knelt beside Lance, setting the items on the ground nearby. Lance grabbed for the jug and gulped several large mouthfuls straight from it. Keith turned his head away and began to sort out the medical supplies. By the time Lance had downed a third of the water, Keith had pulled out some scissors and fresh bandages. They were a bright white in the dim light and Lance figured they were brand new.

“Did you go out and buy these?” Lance asked, curiously.

“No, I made them myself,” Keith answered, voice layered with sarcasm.

“Jesus, it was just a question.”

They fell silent while Keith worked, carefully cutting away the bandages. His fingers were gentle and barely brushed against Lance at all. In fact, Lance couldn't help letting his eyes flutter closed. Slowly but surely, Keith removed the old bandages, cleaned the cut and bandaged Lance's head once more, all neat and tidy.

“Have you taken any painkillers this morning?” Keith asked.

“I dunno,” Lance replied, a little sarcastically. “I mean, what is time in a dark basement?”

Keith sighed. “When you woke up,” he said slowly, as if he was explaining things to an idiot, “did you take any?”

“No,” said Lance just as slowly, drawing out the ‘o’ part.

“Then take some.”

“I don't need to-”

“Don't be an idiot!” snapped Keith.

“Hey!” exclaimed Lance. “Don't shout at me when I had to talk to you all night - or whenever that was.” He grabbed the Advil, a little relieved at the prospect of taking some. His head was throbbing again - he hadn't taken any beforehand as he wasn't sure how long he'd been there for. After downing one pill with some water (not bothering to use the glass yet again, to Keith's disgust), Lance added, “Speaking of which, you didn't tell me you’re the type of werewolf who changes every night.”

“I didn't tell you anything,” Keith retorted. “And why is my book across the room?” He got to his feet and made his way over to it.

Lance suddenly realised as he swallowed the second pill that Keith was headed for the exact place he’d left the smashed plate. His eyes widened and he used the wall to push himself to his feet. If he saw the plate in pieces, he'd know that Lance had a one. Keith would take it off him and his vague plan would be in tatters. So he decided to act _now_ while he still could.

Picking up the jug still full of water, Lance threw it in Keith's direction. Despite the crockery missing him, the water flew out of the container and drenched Keith who jumped away from it - and further into the basement. Due to the way he’d moved, Lance was now closer to the stairs than Keith. Lance quickly backed away from his captor, keeping his eyes on him, just to make sure he could see when the werewolf came for him.

Keith looked up, his hair covering one eye and dripping down to the puddle on the floor. The expression on his face could only be described as livid. A noise filled the room and Lance slowly realised that Keith was growling. Was he... was he actually the kind of werewolf that could shape-shift whenever they wanted? Lance moved faster, stumbling over his own feet as he sought the stairs, wondering why they seemed so much further away than before. Keith watched him and Lance felt like his gaze pierced him. Unnerved, he slowed to a halt, worried about what Keith was about to do. But, when Keith took a menacing step forward, Lance instinctively turned and ran, desperate to get away before Keith tried to punish him somehow.

A weight hit his back and he was bowled over. He was reminded of the wolf for a moment, the way it had pinned him that first night. But there were arms around his waist before the weight shifted and they were gone as Keith clambered up his body. That made Lance think of Jason and the log and he didn't know whether to freeze or fight. So, instead, he panicked; he screamed and flailed all his limbs, trying uselessly to buck Keith off. The sodden werewolf kept him on the ground and even pushed his head into the floor.

"What," Keith hissed, making Lance still at the venomous tone, "was that?"

"Let me go," Lance pleaded, trying one last time to elbow him. A hand stopped him from making contact and pushed it back down, pinning him in an awkward position.

"I've told you that I can't, okay? It's for your own good-"

"No, it's not!" Lance shouted wriggling his body as much as possible. "How is being _kidnapped_ by a _murderer_ good for me?!"

"I didn't murder-"

"Yes, you did! You killed that girl in the Little Red Riding Hood costume! I don't know what she was doing there but you ripped her chest open and you're gonna do it to me, too, aren't you?!"

"I'm not," Keith insisted, his grip loosening a little, though he kept sitting on Lance so he couldn't get up. Lance raised his head to glare at him over his shoulder and found the werewolf looking forlorn. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Lance raised his arms and waved them around. "What d'ya call this?! And the only reason I have these bandages is 'cause of _you_!"

Keith considered that for a moment. He glanced away, sighed and placed a heavy hand on Lance's shoulder. "Don't follow me."

"What-?" Lance cut himself off with a grunt of surprise as Keith leaned on Lance's shoulder to get to his feet. Before Lance had recovered enough to sit up, Keith was at the stairs. "No!" he cried out, crawling forward. "Stop!"

But Keith didn't listen and strode up the stairs. "Get some rest, Lance."

"I don't need any!" Lance shouted, getting to his feet, hands clenched into fists.

"Whatever."

The door slammed shut above Lance and the locks clicked back into place. He stood there, breathing heavily as he stared at the stairs, close enough for him to lean forward and touch the bannister. So close... Realising he was clutching something, he glanced down to see the shard in his hand – he'd completely forgotten about it in his panic. However, when he looked around, he found that he had an extra weapon in the new jug – and the first aid kit.

* * *

Working out a plan with the items on hand took a bit of time as Lance tried his hardest to think of everything that could go wrong and how to compensate for them. In the end, he thought he had a fairly solid plan. Nothing could go wrong – he hoped. All he needed to do was attract Keith's attention. So, with one of the empty jugs in hand, the scissors in his back pocket and the shard up his sleeve, Lance went up the stairs, pulling up his hood as he went. He hoped the dark hoodie would keep him from being seen and he'd made sure to put the flashlight in the pocket of the hoodie.

Once he'd gotten to the top, however, he stopped, eyes wide. He could hear voices on the other side of the door – _voices_ , as in plural. As in more than one person. Lance's plan rested on there only being one person to get past. Annoyed, he considered throwing the jug – but that would attract attention he didn't need right then. Besides, he was a little curious as to who Keith could be talking to so he pressed his ear to the door.

"-a missing person?!" came Keith's voice, sounding alarmed.

"Exactly what I mean, Keith," another voice said, this one both vaguely familiar and frustrated.

"Well... We can just take him home, right? Then-Then they'll stop looking."

"They're not even looking in the woods. The theory is that he tried to make his way to the party and got picked up by 'some unsavoury types'."

"Then we don't need to let him go just yet-"

"Keith!" exclaimed the new voice. "We _cannot_ keep him here. Especially not locked in your basement. What do you plan on doing when the next full moon comes around?"

"I'll... I'll think of something by then."

"Keith."

"Well, what do you want me to do, Shiro?! I panicked, okay? And now he knows about us and he'll _tell_ everyone. He saw me kill that Hunter!"

Lance's eyes widened and he pressed his hand against his mouth. The only 'Shiro' he knew about was one of the Sheriff's Deputies, Takashi Shirogane. Since they'd been talking about a 'missing person' – who must have been _him_ , he realised, and he felt a wave of guilt and despair at the knowledge that his mom was probably in distress – it _must_ be the well-loved Deputy. And he knew about Keith's werewolf condition. Did that make Shiro one, too?

After a pause, Shiro said, "That wasn't _you_. That was the wolf."

“You know fine well that it _was_.”

“Keith…”

“This is exactly why I live out here, Shiro, and I still managed to hurt someone.” Keith gave a hollow laugh. “And then I hurt _Lance_. He’s terrified of me. Panics every time I hold him down – probably because-”

“'Hold him down’?” said Shiro, sounding aghast. “What the hell have you been doing to him, Keith?”

“He tried to get out just this morning! I had to tackle him to the ground. I didn’t get much of a chance to get off him and he started flailing around.”

Shiro sighed – and Lance realised that he’d gotten closer to the door now, since he could hear that as well. “We can’t leave him down there. We’re going to have to talk to him.”

A lock clicked open and Lance panicked, looking between the door and the bottom of the stairs. If they both came down, he couldn’t use the trap he’d set up. They might even notice it and take it away. Should he go down the stairs or stay where he was and attack them with a view of getting out? And once he _did_ get free, what would he do? There was no way anyone would believe him that Shiro was a part of this kidnapping conspiracy, let alone the werewolf part.

“You can’t do that!” came Keith’s voice from beyond the door, raised in frustration.

With his ear no longer pressed to the door, he couldn’t quite make out what Shiro had said but he was sure there was something about ‘make him’ and ‘werewolf’. Shocked, Lance could only stare at the door as the locks scraped open. At the last moment, he remembered where he was and he shifted closer to the wall, flattening himself against it. His position meant that he would be half hidden by the door but hopefully wouldn’t stop it from opening.

When it did open, Lance bit his lip hard. He shifted a little and waited. A tall, broad man, hidden in the shadows, stepped through. Lance held his breath. The man continued down the steps, walking slowly and carefully. Then Keith took a step down, the door still obscuring him slightly. His shoulders were hunched up and his head was ducked. He completely missed Lance as well.

So, taking that as his cue, Lance attacked. With a short yell, Lance threw all his weight into the door, slamming it into Keith and sending him stumbling against the bannister. He barely paused as he twisted his body, using his momentum to send the jug flying. It hit Shiro in the face as he turned to see what the problem was and made him step back in surprise. Shiro had, thankfully, forgotten he was on the stairs and fell down them With that done, Lance turned from him to face Keith. The werewolf was in the process of pulling himself upright but, before he could properly set himself onto his feet, Lance lunged at him, lashing out with the plate shard. Somehow, he managed to plunge it into Keith’s shoulder, just on the outside of it: if it wasn’t stuck there, Lance would have said it was a glancing blow. Keith recoiled and Lance slammed the door into him, as if he was shutting it. That knocked Keith completely off his feet and Lance took that chance.

Hopping around and over him, Lance managed to leap up the last few steps and into a plain hallway. The walls were painted a pale red, not quite pink but well on its way. He barely registered a couple of tables and a tall vase before he spotted a hat stand. Lance headed for it, convinced that the wooden door beyond was his way to the outside world. He took two steps before something caught him about the waist. This time when he went down, the weight was on top of his legs.

“Lance!” he heard Keith snap. “Stop!”

“Let…” said Lance, twisting slightly so he could bend both legs at the same time. “…go!” he shouted as he kicked them both out at the same time. His feet connected with something and he heard a strange yelping sound, a mixture of human and animal. Shuddering at the thought that Keith was in the process of transforming, Lance scrambled to his feet. He ran for the door, still hunched over for a few steps until he had got his feet completely under him. By the time he had reached the door, he was completely upright. Trying the handle, he found that the door wasn’t locked and he was able to wrench it open. As he turned to slam it shut behind him – and hopefully slow them down – he was able to see what he’d left behind.

Keith was clutching at his shoulder as he rose, the bloodied shard on the floor beside him. Shiro was standing in the doorway to the basement, eyes wide. He really was the Deputy – Lance had seen him around before. Never up close, of course. Now, he could see the famed scar across his nose and the scar tissue from a burn on his hand. At first, he stared down at Keith in surprise. Then both of them looked up at Lance and, with a cry of fear, he slammed the door.

As quickly as he could, he crossed the porch he had found himself on, a well-kept thing made of varnished wood. He leapt down the steps and onto- Lance stopped and stared around the place. The house he had just exited from was surrounded by trees. A clearing had evidently been made, stumps dotted about the grassy area. Pretty flowers added colour to the grass and dirt. Above him, the sun was low in the sky, tree branches creating flickering shadows as they danced in the breeze. Birds flitted from branch to ground and back again. Lance saw a rabbit nibbling on the grass beside the nearest tree. Everything seemed peaceful despite the growing unease in Lance’s chest.

Was he still in the woods? How far was he from the path? Which direction was the town? Chewing on his lip, Lance looked to and fro, trying to figure out which way he should go. But he didn't have the time to just stand there so he ran forward, the sun on his right, heading for the trees. If he could get among them...

Behind him, he heard the door open and he redoubled his efforts to reach the treeline. A shout came: Keith still trying to stop him. "Lance! Come back – it's too dangerous-!" He seemed to give up when Lance started to leap over roots, scaring the rabbit away. There was a final, faint, "Lance!" Then Lance could only hear his heavy breathing, his heart pounding in his ears and the swishing noises of the branches he was running through. He flinched as twigs whipped against him, likely scratching at his face. A few times, the long sleeves and the hood of the top he wore caught in the twigs and he had to stop to frantically pull at it, his eyes darting around in case he could see Keith and Shiro following him.

One such time, he was caught in two different places and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. As he fumbled with the hoodie and the pointy twigs which were holding him hostage, he scanned the trees he had come from for movement. All that caught his eye was a bird flitting around, curiously staring down at him. Slowly, his breathing began to even out and he relaxed a little. It helped his brain kick into gear again and he remembered that the woods he had been in – if he was even still in them – was east of the town. He looked up at the sky: the sun was still visible, still low.

"Sun rises in the east, sets in the west," Lance muttered to himself.

Just as he had released himself, he heard a rustling. Looking up, he spotted something moving in his direction, a flash of black and red. Eyes widening, Lance double checked where the sun was, put his back to it and pushed his way through the branches in his way. He took off, hoping he could get away before the two men could figure out his change in direction. The forest quickly swallowed him.

* * *

It was getting dark. By the time Lance noticed, he had stopped running; neither Keith nor Shiro were in sight so he had let himself breathe. Now, though, he stared up at the sky in horror. "Shit," he declared, loudly enough to scare a nearby sparrow. It took off into the trees, heading towards the setting sun – and the west.

Lance had been heading east and was now further from the town than before.

Tired, hungry and thirsty, Lance picked a tree and sunk down at its base, groaning in frustration. He let his head fall back against the trunk. There were a few options of what he could do now. Wait where he was and have at least one gigantic wolf find him when the moon came up. At the very least, climb up the tree and get some sleep, kinda like Katniss – though he didn't have rope to tie himself to the trunk so he'd probably fall out. Look for some sort of water source, perhaps. Go back the way he'd come and risk running straight into Keith and Shiro. Or take a slightly circuitous route and start making his way west, hopefully throwing the two of him off his trail.

He picked that last one and used the tree to push himself to his feet. It was a good thing he did use the tree to lean on, as a wave of dizziness swept over him, swiftly followed by a feeling of light-headedness. His stomach grumbled and Lance grimaced. He tried not to think of Hunk's cookies or Pidge's bizarrely shaped snacks or his mother's dinners. Tears sprang to his eyes and he furiously rubbed at them: he couldn't afford to lose any water.

Once it had passed, Lance turned south and headed that way. Having thought about it, Lance knew that, if he went north and turned west, he would likely end up back at that house. So he went south as the shadows lengthened, as the air cooled. He began to shiver: his ill-fitting clothes made it seem colder unless he hugged himself and that was impractical as he had to keep pushing aside branches or clambering over fallen logs.

Just before the sunlight disappeared, Lance turned towards it and began to travel that way. Soon after, the light was gone and he had to pull out the flashlight, still tripping over roots despite the light source. He kept going, though, determined to get to the town or a road or _something_. Noises sounded around him. Owls and other night birds. Animals moved in the undergrowth. Twigs snapped under his feet and made him jump.

Everything became creepier. The leaves which brushed against the exposed parts of his body were really the hairy hands of some monster, probably a werewolf. Trees loomed out of the darkness like spectres swooping down on him. Stars were barely visible through the branches above him, their eyes glaring down at him. Everything made him hunch in on himself, the hand holding the flashlight shaking.

Then he passed a thick log which reminded him of the one at the sex spot. The vivid memory of Jason forcing him over it made him freeze. He stared at it, wondering if Jason had been the one to report him missing, if he'd returned to the place a few minutes after he'd left. What if he'd only been playing a trick on Lance? What if he'd only left to... 'teach him a lesson'? Without Jason with him, Lance grimaced, he was able to see how horrible that was. If he had been there with his charming grin, though, Lance knew he'd have willingly believed him and forgiven him. But ignoring the implications of all that, him playing a trick could have meant that Jason might have saved him from being kidnapped by a werewolf. Maybe he should have done what Jason had said and waited for him to return.

Shaking his head at his own stupid thoughts, Lance made to move off when he heard a strange snuffling sound which made him stop, freezing in place. With wide eyes, he slowly looked beyond the log and spotted a large, dark shape. It sort of looked like a tree stump, maybe, with a lot of moss grown over it. At least, that's what Lance hoped it was and he wasn't about to point the flashlight in that direction. He pursed his lips together in an attempt to keep himself from whimpering or making any noise.

Slowly, the shape began to rise, the movements seeming menacing. Lance's heart was beating far too fast. His mind was blank. What were you supposed to do in this situation? Finally, the creature was on its feet, a massive wolf which snuffled at the ground. Then it opened its jaws in a big yawn. Lance felt light-headed again and the throbbing pain from his head injury was back. When the wolf finally seemed to look in his direction, the light from the flashlight reflected in its eyes, Lance's wits seemed to return to him and he stepped back.

A twig snapped.

The wolf growled.

Lance whimpered despite himself.

With its growl increasing in volume, the wolf stepped towards Lance.

He honestly wanted to run. But Lance found himself frozen. As the wolf stalked forward, Lance felt himself swaying. His energy seemed to be swiftly leaving him and his arms seemed to shake as he cautiously lifted them. Swallowing several times, Lance worked his mouth, trying to force words out. After all, it had worked the last time. But this was clearly a different wolf and he didn't think it would react the same way.

In a sudden burst of movement, the wolf hunkered down, preparing to spring at him. Lance couldn't help but let out a shriek as he saw the vague outline of the creature soaring through the air at him. He shoved his hands out in a somewhat useless attempt to stop it. The wolf's jaws were wide, prepared to swallow him up whole.

Something dark and _huge_ slammed into the side of it and sent the wolf into another tree. The impact made the bark crack and the tree protested with a loud creaking noise. Lance stared as the thing that had been about to eat him scrambled to its feet, a growling emitting from it. Beside it, also growling was another big shape, a fair bit bigger than the attacking one. Not only that but another emerged from the trees and headed straight for Lance.

This time, Lance cried out, stumbled backwards, dropped the flashlight and landed on his ass against the root of the tree directly behind him. The smaller wolf made a huffing noise and stepped in front of him, turning to face the attacking wolf. Lance stared at the three of them, fear still coursing through him: his burgeoning curiosity was beginning to lessen it, wondering who was who. Was Keith the one seemingly trying to protect him? Who was the one who had stopped the attack? And was the attacking one someone they knew?

Eventually, the growling died down. Lance could barely see but he could tell that the wolves were communicating. Their tails and ears flicked to and fro. Odd sounds escaped them, little yips and barks. It was as if Lance was watching several serious dogs having a conversation. He began to feel more at ease the longer it went on and tried to get to his feet.

Unfortunately, the lack of food and water and his general exhaustion made him feel faint and he fell forward. Weakly crying out, Lance put out his hands to stop himself from hitting the ground – and got a faceful of fur instead. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wriggled a little until he could push himself onto his knees, the side of the protective wolf pressed against him. Surprised, he reached out a hand and, when the wolf didn't move, he used its body to help him stand.

Once he was upright, the attacking wolf gave a strange noise, almost like it was using a bark as a laugh. Lance flinched at the sound of it and crowded against the helpful wolf's side. It moved its head slightly, as if it was looking at Lance, but ultimately ignored him as it made a noise, somewhere between a growl and a cough. The first wolf made its laughing noise again, wagged its tail and padded its way over to the wolf assistant. Lance tensed but it only rubbed noses with the one helping him and silently disappeared into the trees. Everything seemed to go silent as soon as it was gone.

Suddenly feeling like he could breathe, Lance sighed in relief. Then he remembered the other wolves and he tensed again. He carefully disentangled himself from the wolf he was clinging to and stepped away, putting a hand to his head as he felt another wave of dizziness wash over him. The feel of the bandages under his fingers made him think of Keith and he looked back at the wolf he had been holding onto. Lance stared at the shape of it for a moment, deciding it wasn't a good idea to try to pick up the flashlight in case he fell over.

"Er," he said. Neither wolf reacted. "Keith?"

The wolf he addressed gave a bark, as if confirming it.

Turning to the other one, Lance said, his voice a little weak, "Deputy Shirogane?"

Another bark, this one deeper. It almost seemed to boom around the small space and Lance flinched in surprise. When the wolf saw this, it whined, its tail wagging a little.

Looking between them, Lance frowned. "I thought... I thought you couldn't control yourselves as wolves?"

Keith pointed his muzzle – _God, Keith had a_ muzzle – at the sky and gave a tiny howl. Shiro whined and shook his head.

It took Lance a moment but, after staring at the tiny spots of stars that were barely visible, their pretty light making impressive criss-cross patterns of the branches, he thought he understood what they were trying to say. "That's only on the full moon?" When Keith gave a bark of confirmation, Lance put his hands on his hips. "Then why were you growling at me through the door last night? Or whenever that was? God, what day is it?" Lance demanded. He stopped and reached up with both hands to rub at his face. "I just want to go home," he mumbled into them.

A nudge to his shoulder nearly sent him flying but he managed to grab hold of Keith's fur. Once he felt he could balance, he quickly let go, staring down at him. Keith whined before trotting away a few steps, turning his head to stare at Lance.

"You want me to follow you?" Lance's heart skipped a beat, barely able to believe it. "Are you going to show me the way home?"

Instantly, Keith's entire demeanour changed. His head lowered and he let out a low, warning growl. Shiro growled back, suddenly beside Lance. It seemed to vibrate in Lance's chest and he stumbled away a few steps, clutching at his heart. The two wolves continued to growl at each other for a while until Lance's legs wobbled and he had to stagger over to a tree to keep himself standing. That changed Keith's attitude immediately and the wolf appeared beside him, whining and nudging at him.

"I'm fine," Lance told him, absently patting his shoulder. "I just need something to eat. And drink." He glanced at Keith and smirked. "Can Lassie go fetch me some, huh?"

This time, Keith's growl was short and immediately followed by a whine. He nudged Lance again and tried to get him to follow. However, from the way the two wolves had been growling at each other, Lance knew he wasn't about to be taken home.

"No way!" he said. "I wanna go home not to _your_ prison cell." Keith flinched and whined at that but Lance only narrowed his eyes. "That's what it is! I don't wanna be locked up in there any more – it's horrible. I-I wanna..." Lance sniffled, shook his head and rubbed at his eyes before taking a breath. "I'm gonna go _home_ and you can't stop me."

There was a short silence. Both wolves seemed to consider him. Then Keith turned to communicate with Shiro. After a while, Shiro moved towards Lance and nudged him from behind, his muzzle pressing between his shoulder blades as he shoved him forward. Keith was there to catch him as he stumbled forward and the wolf slowly moved off, forcing Lance to move with him. They continued this a few times until Lance let himself fall backwards instead.

"Okay, okay!" he snapped. "You both want me to follow you, I get it. Let me _walk_ , sheesh!"

Satisfied that he was actually going to go with them, they slowly trotted on, letting Lance follow on at his slow pace. In fact, they were so much faster that they took to circling him, nudging him upright when he stumbled and helping him over obstacles. They worked in silence, Lance too exhausted to think straight or to find the predators worrying. Both the wolves never made a sound, content to silently watch him as if he was something vaguely interesting.

It seemed like time stopped. Lance grew more and more tired, his feet stumbling more often. By the time they came to a clearing, Lance almost laughed in relief. The moon shone down, lending its light to the sleeping flowers and lush grass – and the house nestled there.

“No,” said Lance, trying to back away. One of the wolves nudged him so that he almost fell as he stumbled forward; he ended up doubled over with a hand pressed to the ground. Pushing himself upright, he turned to glare at the wolves, arms folded over his chest. “No. I’m not gonna walk back into the base-”

A whine cut him off and the smaller wolf - Keith, he reminded himself - nudged at him, its tail between its legs. Lance didn't know what that meant but the wolves were crowding him and he had to take a few steps back, _towards_ the house.

“I mean it,” Lance said, putting his hand out as if he was a cop ordering a car to stop. “I’m not going in there.”

Ignoring him, the wolves continued to crowd him, occasionally nudging him when he was too stubborn to move. He tried his hardest not to but his head was beginning to pound with pain and he found himself zoning out often. Sometimes, he’d even sway on the spot as his head spun. With each movement closer, Lance would shout at them, making himself thirstier and thirstier.

It wasn't long until they were at the steps to the porch. Lance tripped on the bottom one and began to fall backwards, only just stopping himself by catching hold of the bannister. He hauled himself upright again and stared at the wolves. They stared back. There was probably no way of getting away from them, not at night. At least they hadn't bitten him yet.

Lance sighed. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered. Turning, he walked up the stairs and opened the door. Inside, the house was in darkness. He felt around for a light switch and turned the hall light on. The first thing he noticed was the open door; the one to the basement. Sighing heavily once more, Lance made his way towards it.

Just as he reached it and was about to step through, there was a whine from back at the front door and Keith padded up to him. Before Lance could say anything, the wolf nudged his side, shoving him away from the door. Lance blinked at him but obligingly made his way further down the hall until he reached another one. Keith nudged him one last time and, curious, Lance went in.

After putting on the light, Lance found himself in a kitchen. It was decent sized with counters running along the walls and an island in the middle. Pots and pans hung by their handles above the island. A large sink was situated beneath the window, darkness pressing against the glass and making it reflect an image of a surprised Lance. All the cupboards were tightly closed. A fridge-freezer, an electric oven and hob and a microwave made it look like something Hunk or his mother would enjoy being in. Over in the far corner squatted an old, ugly washing machine. On the island was a covered plate, much like the one Keith had left for him before. Beside it sat a glass.

Without waiting for any more permission, Lance rushed across, grabbed the glass and carried it to the sink. He turned the tap and was soon gulping down as much water as possible. When his throat felt much better, he returned to the counter to pick up the plate and unwrap it. Again, he was confronted by a variety of sandwiches which he stuffed his face with, wolfing it down in mere minutes.

Licking a bit of mayo from the tips of his fingers, Lance glanced towards the door to find the two werewolves watching him. He looked down at the plate for a moment before making a decision. "Thanks," he grumbled, looking over at Keith. "I guess."

Keith responded with a snorting noise.

Rolling his eyes, Lance shook his head. He took the plate over to the sink and placed it in. Afterwards, he grabbed the glass and took another few gulps of water. Feeling much better, if still rather weak-limbed, Lance turned back to them. "So? What now?"

Shiro turned his head slightly. Now that Lance could see him in better lighting, he could see that Shiro's muzzle had a scar over it. Also, the fur on his right foreleg seemed to be mostly missing, only there in clumps. Shiro flicked his ears at Keith and the smaller wolf hung his head slightly. Then he padded his way over to Lance and stood in front of him, peering at his face.

Lance blinked back. "What?"

Not making a sound, Keith reached down, his jaws parting. Lance froze, well aware that _now_ could be the time they would bite him, turn him into one of them. Before he could force himself to move, Keith's jaws grabbed hold of the bottom of the hoodie he wore. Confused, Lance stumbled after him as Keith backed off towards the door. Once he seemed to think Lance had the idea, he let go and both he and Shiro turned away from him.

Curious, Lance followed them to a set of stairs. They were quick to gracefully make their way up them; Lance followed at a slower pace. At the top, he found himself on a landing with the two wolves standing guard on either side of a door on his right. Lance felt like he was some sort of Ancient Egyptian prince or something, passing through a door with those jackal things decorating the entrance.

Inside, he found a bedroom. The bed wasn't made, just a mattress on top of a wooden frame. A wardrobe dominated one wall. Beside it, a chest of drawers had a small mirror on it, the kind someone would receive as a moving in gift. Blinking in the dark was an alarm clock, not set and so showing **00:00**. Lance thought to turn the lights on and found the curtains were already drawn. Just like the hall, the room was rather plain, decorated a cream colour. The light had a lampshade on it, something cheap which looked like it might fall apart if Lance accidentally banged it.

Keith brushed past him on the way in, startling Lance a little as he moved out of the way. The werewolf was still huge and seemed to loom over him as he stepped into Lance's space. But Keith didn't stop till he was in front of the wardrobe where he pawed at the handles there. Getting the hint, Lance walked over, opened it and looked inside. A duvet cover was inside, plain and without a cover, and a pillow sat at an angle atop it.

"What...? Are you telling me to sleep in here?" Lance asked.

Both of the werewolves barked, the noise making Lance flinch. Keith immediately whined, almost as if he was trying to apologise. Shiro, meanwhile, made a huffing sound before entering the room. The larger werewolf nudged the door shut, essentially trapping Lance in a room with two gigantic werewolves that had been talking about making him into one.

Then again... Lance _was_ tired. And the bed looked far more comfortable than the stone floor in the basement. He pursed his lips for a moment, considering his options. His tiredness won out. Besides, he told himself as he grabbed the duvet, if they'd wanted to bite him tonight, they had had plenty of opportunity and not taken it.

Settling under the covers, Lance watched the werewolves talking to each other with deep rumbles and ear flicks. Eventually, Shiro padded over to the door and lay down, curling up in a way that was almost cute. Meanwhile, Keith chose to move over to the side of the bed, closest to the bedside table – which was also closest to the door – and curled up there. Lance shifted and peered over the side of the bed: he nearly jolted backwards when he found Keith's head lifted, staring straight back at him.

"Um," said Lance once his heart no longer seemed to want to break free of his chest. "Goodnight, I suppose..."

Snorting, Keith lowered his head. Lance shifted back, nodded to Shiro who seemed to now be staring at him too and lay down. He swallowed, crossed his fingers and hoped he would wake up in the morning unscathed.


	3. Surprised to Find the Cottage-Door Standing Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These characters are definitely leading me because some of the stuff in this chapter wasn't meant to be discussed just now but, hey ho.

This time, Lance woke to birdsong. He blinked several times as he stared at the ceiling. Glancing towards the window, he noted the thin strip of light which shone through the gap in the curtains. The rest of the room was bathed in the familiar dim lighting he usually saw when he woke up. Everything seemed peaceful.

Lance needed to pee.

Wondering if he'd be allowed to go to the bathroom, Lance quietly pushed himself onto his elbows, grimacing as his bladder seemed to gain more pressure. He looked over to the door, expecting to see a large wolf blocking it. Instead, the massive shape he had seen the night before was gone, replaced with a smaller one. Lance stared, confused for a second, before he quickly and quietly crawled from the bed, hurrying to the window. There, he opened the curtains just enough to see better.

Lying curled on his side, was a man. A really muscled man. His hair was ruffled from… sleep? His transformation? A scarred arm was easily visible, the red tissue stretching from the middle of his bicep all the way down to the tips of his fingers. It was almost as if he had allowed an abstract artist to paint him. Across his nose was another scar, this one white and just a straight line, as if he had been cut in a slicing motion.

He was also very much naked.

A squeal almost escaped Lance but he managed to bite on his lip, hard, to stop himself. Thankfully, Shiro was curled up so Lance couldn't see much more of him. However, now curious, he carefully tip-toed back to the bed and crawled over it in order to take a peek at Keith. Just like Shiro, he was back to being a human, his hair all over the place. Unlike Shiro, he was lying on his back. Lance tried not to stare and failed.

Eventually, his bladder alerted him once more to his predicament. He grimaced. What was he supposed to do here? Should he move Shiro? But that would wake him up and, if the two werewolves stayed asleep…

Returning to the window, Lance slipped through the gap he had left and found a cosy window seat. Beyond that was a large window, one which Lance peered through, trying to gauge how far it was to the ground. Instead, he found himself staring at a set of poles which had been set up on this side of the house. Great chunks had been gouged out of them but Lance couldn't tell from this distance what had caused it. But they put him in mind of dojos and Kung Fu Panda and he wondered if Keith and Shiro swung axes around or something. It would certainly explain all those _abs_.

Shaking his head to get rid of those thoughts, Lance looked at the window itself, wondering how to open it. When he found the handle, he immediately tried it and almost cheered when it easily opened. He muffled it and turned to look at the room. Neither of the werewolves were up yet so Lance relaxed a little. Then he looked down under the window and grimaced. It seemed a long way down and he couldn't afford to break a leg in the middle of these woods. There was nothing set against the wall that he could climb down - would he have enough time to fashion a rope out of what was available?

Just as Lance turned to head towards the wardrobe in order to search it, he caught sight of the bed. He paused to consider it, specifically the mattress. If he threw that out the window and dropped down onto it, maybe it would cushion his fall? Of course, he would have to climb out the window and hang down for it to work when he landed. But it would definitely be quicker than making a rope.

As quietly as he could, Lance dragged the duvet and pillow off the bed. He left them in a pile in the corner and returned to the mattress. Carefully, Lance dragged the mattress towards the window until the opposite end was at the edge of the frame. Then he set it down and hopped over to pick up the other end. He shoved it upwards - narrowly avoiding the light - and toppled it over, grabbing hold again just before it hit the floor. In order to reach the window, Lance had to let it go and so it landed with a soft poofing noise. Lance winced at that and looked around: Keith's head didn't pop up from the other side of the bed; Shiro did stir but he only shifted, uncurling a little. Quickly looking away, Lance turned back to the window.

It was then that he realised that he’d have to open the curtains wider in order to get the mattress past them. Grimacing, Lance quietly did so. Then he glanced at Shiro. The man didn't seem to react to the increase of sunlight. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lance dragged the end of the mattress up with a grunt and managed to slowly manoeuvre it until the very end of it was poking out of the window with Lance perched on the window seat. He leaned over to make doubly sure that he wouldn't be throwing the mattress on top of anything. Then he glanced back to make sure the werewolves were still sleeping: Shiro was still blocking the door and Keith wasn’t visible. Turning back to his task, he grabbed hold of the edge and began to drag it across the seat, bracing himself on the window frame.

“What are you doing?” said a groggy voice and Lance started.

He turned to see who was speaking - and screamed when he found Shiro standing right behind him. His eyes, which had been searching for him on the floor, was directed right at his crotch and he felt himself go red, tempted to launch himself out of the window to save himself from the embarrassment. Heart hammering, he tried to think of something to say.

“I, uh, I need to pee.”

Shiro stared hard at him. Then he looked at the mattress. “And you needed the bed?”

“You were blocking the door!” Lance retorted. “I figured I could climb out the window, go pee in the woods and then…”

“And then what?” Shiro demanded.

“Then I’d go home!” Lance exclaimed. “My mom's probably in bits!”

At that, Shiro grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he began.

They were interrupted by a groan and movement on the other side of the bed. Keith's head appeared and he eyed them. “Shiro? Lance? What's going on? And why’s the window open?”

Lance folded his arms across his chest and turned his head away. He stared at the mattress. “I just wanted to look,” he mumbled.

Sighing, Shiro said, “I’m gonna show him the bathroom, okay?”

Keith looked between them, frowning. “Shiro…”

“I’ll wait for him at the door.”

“ _He_ is right here, thank you very much!” Lance snapped, digging his fingers into his arms. He'd just lost his chance to escape. They'd probably lock him up in the basement again only with more locks. Maybe they’d even chain him up - they weren't being used during the day, after all. Glaring at the two of them due to these thoughts, Lance then turned to Shiro. “And he thinks you should probably just point him in the right direction and go get dressed instead of standing guard.”

After regarding him for a moment, Shiro turned back to Keith who had gotten to his feet. Lance was able to see that there was a bandage around Keith's shoulder now; he looked away as Shiro spoke to Keith. “We'll take turns and then I’ll go make breakfast.”

“Okay,” said Keith and dragged himself from the room. He glanced at the mattress as he opened the door; his frown grew deeper just before he left.

As soon as he was gone, Shiro turned to Lance. “Follow me,” he said. “And please don't run away: I don't really want to chase you down while I’m…” He glanced down at himself.

Unbidden, Lance looked, too. It was impossible not to see Shiro's manhood - it was just as huge as the rest of him. Lance quickly tore his eyes away and looked back up at Shiro. The Deputy’s cheeks were pink.

Clearing his throat, Shiro hastily turned. That gave Lance a great view of his ass as he walked towards the door. When he reached it, Lance glanced back at the window. Should he make his escape _now_? The mattress would take effort and time to shove out - could he do it without Shiro stopping him? He sighed when he realised that he probably couldn't and followed the naked Shiro into the hall.

They made their way deeper into the house, away from the stairs. Lance looked longingly at them as they walked away from his only other escape. Then his bladder reminded him just how much he needed to pee and he turned his attention to keeping up with Shiro. Finally, Shiro stopped in front of a door.

“Here it is,” Shiro said, angling his body as he turned to Lance in order to keep him from seeing Shiro properly - though it was a bit late for that. “There's a shower in there as well, if you want to get yourself cleaned up.”

“I mean,” said Lance and he plucked at the hoodie he was still wearing. “Can I get fresh clothes?”

Shiro's eyes flicked over Lance's clothing. “Ah, yes. He’s given you my clothes so I’ll find some more. They’ll be out here for you.”

“Right,” said Lance.

Stepping past Shiro, Lance entered the bathroom and turned when Shiro shut the door behind him. The click of the door closing seemed almost final. Lance grimaced and turned to look at his options.

It was a decent sized room. There was a toilet, a sink set into a counter. Above it was a cabinet with a mirror attached to it. In a corner of the room was a cupboard which, when Lance took a moment to investigate, contained a bunch of plain white towels. A rather large tub sat against a wall in a sort of alcove. The shower head was above it and there was a glass partition that Lance could pull out in order to keep the water in the bath. Behind the cistern was a little ledge upon which was a little dish of potpourri. That was underneath a small window of frosted glass. Lance was sure he could shimmy his way out of it but, upon inspection, he found that there was no latch and no visible way of opening it.

He was still trapped.

* * *

Keith was the one who handed him some clothes through the small gap Lance allowed. He had his head turned away and let go of the pile almost too early. Lance had to scramble to catch them and he clicked his tongue at him before pulling the door completely closed.

This time, he had been given a pair of skinny jeans which only just fit him, hanging from his hips. A baggy, white shirt was next, the kind with buttons at the wrists. Lance found that he didn't need to unbutton them in order to fold the arms back and he pushed them up to his elbows. The last thing was a sweater which would practically drown him but, somehow, the house was warm, so he tied it around his waist and hoped he didn't look like he'd shrunk in the wash.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, Keith was standing on the opposite side of the wall, facing the door and glaring at it. He was wearing all black: v-neck t-shirt, tight jeans, socks. Lance frowned at him. "What?" he snapped.

Rolling his eyes, Keith started back down the hall, gesturing for Lance to follow. "Shiro's making us all breakfast," he said, gruffly.

"Yeah. I know," said Lance, pointedly. Keith evidently thought he was stupid. Annoyed, Lance pulled a face before glaring at his back. He looked tense, Lance noted, and he wondered what Keith thought was going to happen.

He led Lance down the stairs and along the hall to the door Lance knew led to the kitchen. Lance could smell cooking and, as Keith opened the door, he realised that it smelled like frying bacon. His stomach grumbled but he also felt a little grossed out – the thought of having heavy, greasy food after only having eaten light sandwiches didn’t sit well with him. Keith ushered him through and Lance’s eyes were drawn to Shiro who was wearing a white vest top (to show off those large biceps), tightly fitting, tailored black pants (to show off that ass) and a pink, frilly apron. That last item made him stare.

“Ah,” Shiro said when he heard them come in, turning slightly to reveal the bacon and sausages in the pan. A second pan beside it contained fried eggs. There were words on the apron, clearly visible now that he had turned to them: **Daddy’s Little Chef**. “Breakfast’ll be ready in a few minutes. I hope you like bacon – we always crave meat in the days after the full moon.” He looked towards Keith, kind smile still on his face. “Do you want to take Lance to the dining room-?”

“We can eat in here,” Keith replied, rather snippily. He went into the corner, gave Lance a warning glance and began to pull stools out from where they’d been stored. Once he’d dragged three to the island, he sat on one and glowered at Lance until he’d sat down.

“Uh, you’re making a pretty big breakfast,” Lance commented, directing his words to Shiro seeing as Keith was being a dick.

“Don’t worry,” said Shiro with a cheeky grin. “We won’t force you to eat it all. But Keith told me that you’ve not eaten much, so.” He shrugged.

“I wonder whose fault _that_ is,” Lance mumbled, just loud enough for Keith to hear. He jolted back when Keith growled.

“ _Keith_ ,” said Shiro in warning. He waved his spatula at him. “Stop that.” The Deputy sighed and turned back to Lance. “I’m sorry about everything-”

“Then let me go!”

“-but I think we can start resolving this by talking.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” Lance protested. “I just wanna-”

“-go home,” Keith finished for him. “We _get_ it.” He rolled his eyes.

“Hey! Don’t you roll your eyes at-”

“Guys,” said Shiro with a sigh. “Stop. We’re not going to fix this if you’re bickering all the time.”

“Fix it?” Lance asked, wondering what that could possibly mean. His mind returned to the conversation he had overheard and the plan to make him a werewolf. He immediately tensed but neither of them seemed to notice as Shiro made his way to a cupboard. He began to pull out plates.

“We both want you to return to your family as well,” Shiro told him, raising a hand when Lance opened his mouth to speak. “But we don’t want trouble, so we need to think about what you’ll say when you return. And there’s… something else.”

“What?” Lance demanded. What could possibly be keeping him from going home? Was it a werewolf thing? ’Cause, if it was, Lance was gonna find himself loads of silver.

“That’s perhaps best left till later.” Shiro handed out the plates and returned to fetch some cutlery. “While we’re eating, why don’t we answer some of your questions. And you can answer some of ours.”

“Okay,” said Lance, leaping on the opportunity. “Where’d you get the apron? Doesn’t seem like something Keith would have lying around.”

“Ah. It’s…” Shiro’s cheeks went red.

“He left it here when he was showing it off to me,” Keith told Lance, fork and knife already working his way through a rather large pile of eggs. Looking up at Shiro, he added, “Don’t forget to take it with you.”

“What, you bought it yourself?” asked Lance, amused.

“No! No, I… Er. A friend bought it for me. He thought it was funny.”

Lance was unable to stop a laugh from escaping him. However, when Keith sent him an odd look, he quickly stopped himself. “Well, he sounds like fun,” Lance said, just for something to say before he tucked into his own food.

“Anything else you want to ask us?” Shiro said once he’d recovered from his embarrassment.

Considering his next question, Lance pushed a piece of bacon around with his knife and fork. Finally, he said, “Why am I still here? What are you gonna do to me?”

“Oh, no!” Shiro exclaimed, shaking his head and waving his hands around. “We’re not going to hurt you!”

“Doesn’t it hurt to be turned into a werewolf?” Lance demanded.

“Yes,” said Keith, shortly. When Lance looked towards him, his dark eyes stared straight back, piercing him. He couldn’t help shuddering and Keith’s eyes narrowed.

“Wha-? Keith!” Shiro was looking a little panicked. “We’re not going to turn you! What gave you that idea?”

Not wanting to let them know that he’d been eavesdropping on their conversation, Lance shrugged. “I mean, Keith killed that woman and then he brought me back here. Since he’s not killed _me_ , I just assumed he wanted to do something else to me.” His words made him think of exactly what else Keith could have been doing to him and he shuddered again, remembering the log and Jason.

“That _wasn’t_ Keith,” Shiro said, sternly.

“Stop pretending, Shiro,” Keith snapped. He stabbed at a sausage with his knife and raised it aloft. “The wolf is me; I am the wolf. _I_ killed her.”

“Keith,” Shiro said with a sigh. He turned back to the confused Lance who eyed him with a frown. “That’s not how it works.”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked.

“Don’t _tell_ him, Shiro!” Keith exclaimed.

“He needs to know, Keith.” Shiro was frowning now. “I know we never finished discussing this, but we need him to understand. That was part of the plan, remember?”

“What are you _talking_ about?” demanded Lance, annoyed that he was being ignored.

For a brief moment, Keith and Shiro stared at each other, waiting for one of them to break. Then Keith huffed and looked away, folding his arms with the laden knife still in his hand. “Fine. But he doesn’t need to know _everything_.”

Sighing heavily, Shiro turned back to Lance. “When we turn into the wolves, we lose all sense of awareness. It’s just our instincts driving us. Everything we do as the wolves… well, we wouldn’t do it as humans.”

“But we would _think_ it,” Keith corrected him. “We _want_ to, I dunno, punch someone when we’re humans but we act on it as the wolves. Not that we would actually be able to punch them, but we use our teeth and claws instead.”

Lance looked between them, frowning. “So you don’t really know what you’re doing?”

“Sort of,” Shiro confirmed. “There’s a part of our human selves which watch what’s happening, though we can’t do anything and we’re… detached, I suppose. We don’t try to fight it. When we wake up, we remember everything we’ve done the night before.”

“But what about last night?” Lance asked. “You were answering my questions while you were wolves…”

“Ah, yes…” Shiro looked to Keith who only scowled deeper. “We turn into wolves for five nights of the month. I was talking about the night of the full moon, which is when you saw Keith… er.”

“Which is when you saw me kill that Hunter,” Keith said, bluntly. He paused to take a harsh bite of his sausage, tugging at it much like a wolf would pull meat off a bone, and waited until he’d finished chewing to continue. “And I only did that because she was trying to kill _me_!”

Envisioning the woman’s body, Lance tried to imagine the woman, wearing that skimpy costume, trying to kill a massive wolf. “ _Sure_ ,” he said.

“She _did_ ,” Keith insisted, rather angrily.

“There’s no way she had any weapons on her!”

“She did! They were in her basket!”

That made Lance paused. She _had_ had a basket beside her: could she really have been carrying weapons made of silver? He noticed Keith looking smug and he rallied. “Well, whatever – she was probably just trying to stop you from killing other people!”

Before Keith could reply, Shiro interrupted. “That’s just it, though. Keith has only ever killed one person. It was an accident, a result of his first transformation. The panic that that sort of thing causes makes us… dangerous to be around.”

“And he killed someone?” Lance asked, tense now. He wanted to shift away from Keith. That was two people he’d killed – he was pretty sure he only needed to kill one more to be considered a serial killer.

“It was like… someone reacting to a bee,” Shiro continued, earnestly leaning forward. “You know, they try and swat it away and, maybe in their panic, they hit someone or hurt themselves.”

“So you’re saying the person he killed was like a _bee_.”

“No!” Shiro exclaimed. “Please understand that he didn’t _want_ to kill them. And, ever since then-”

“Forget it, Shiro,” Keith interjected. “He doesn’t _want_ to understand.”

They fell silent, Shiro ducking his head a little. From what Lance could see of his face, he seemed sad. Keith was still angry, ripping another part off his sausage. Lance turned to his own meal, absentmindedly cutting at pieces of egg as he thought over what they had just said. He tried to imagine their first night as wolves, scared and possibly hurting, their instincts telling them they’re in danger – and a target presenting itself. Glancing around the room, he realised that this house had never been here before Keith. How could it have been? It was completely cut off from the outside world and no-one had ever mentioned it in all the time Lance had been in the town. And everything looked fairly new. It was almost as if...

“Did you build this place yourself?” he found himself asking.

Keith glanced up, seemingly surprised. Shiro glanced between them. “Yes,” Keith answered. “Shiro helped, when he could.”

“Huh. It’s… nice.” Lance struggled to find something else to say and gave up, still thinking on the fact that Keith must have built this house specifically to transform safely.

“Thanks…?” said Keith, clearly confused.

Again, they lapsed into silence. Lance pondered over the werewolves and their lives and the Hunters who seemingly knew about them. It was like Supernatural had become his reality. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of demons popping up. Lance never wanted someone he cared about to become possessed: there would be no way he could help them and he would never kill them.

Having let his thoughts drift to his family, Lance straightened, pushing away his half-eaten meal. Shiro gave him a worried look but sat up straighter to pay attention to him. Keith merely ignored him and Lance sent him a glare. “Okay,” he said. “I get it. The first death, I mean. But that woman was out in the woods, hunting things like you or whatever, and you were out there. As a wolf. Like, I’ve seen your basement. You’re usually in there. So why weren’t you? I was out there – you could’ve killed _me_ if she hadn’t got in your way.”

Disgruntled, Keith dropped his cutlery onto his plate with a clatter. He also pushed his plate away. “That wasn’t _my_ fault!” he protested. “She turned up here and asked for some help because she was lost. During the _day_. And then she started trying to kill me. I had to run away from my _own home_. She chased me around. At one point, she thought she had me. But then I transformed and she froze and I attacked her.” Keith snorted. “She lost all her courage at the sight of me, but I was angry and I knew she was a threat, so…” He shrugged.

“You are in no danger from us,” Shiro assured Lance.

“Wasn’t I a danger, too?” he asked, bewildered. “I mean, you thought I was a Hunter and you didn’t kill me. I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” Keith said, not looking at Lance. “We don’t always understand what we’re doing when it’s the full moon. Sometimes it only makes sense when you're the wolf.”

“Well, okay," said Lance, barely managing to keep himself from rolling his eyes. He gave up on trying to get an answer as to why he had been kidnapped; clearly, he wasn't going to get a proper answer. Still pondering on it and everything else he had learnt, Lance realised why the werewolves were reluctant to let him leave. "Then both of you aren’t any danger to the rest of the town?” he asked.

“No,” Shiro agreed. “We would never hurt anyone – not willingly, at least.”

“I won’t tell anyone about you, then,” Lance promised them. “As long as you don’t kill anyone else, that is.”

“Thank you, Lance,” said Shiro with some relief.

“This means I can go home, right?”

Keith snorted. “That’s all you care about, huh?”

“Of course it is!” Lance exclaimed, scowling at Keith. “You _kidnapped_ me-!”

“Hey!” Shiro said, voice raised higher than their shouting. “Stop it.” Once they’d settled down, both of them glaring at each other from the corner of their eyes, Shiro turned to Lance. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

“Why do you keep saying that?!” Lance cried, feeling his chest tighten with a mix of emotions.

“You’re officially a missing person. We need to work out something you can say to the Sheriff that won’t have them coming into the woods. Nobody knows Keith’s here and we’d both like it to stay that way.”

“I’ll say I was lost,” Lance declared. “That Jason left…” Lance stopped, eyes flicking between them. He didn’t want them to know exactly what had happened. Quickly recovering, Lance continued with, “I had an argument with my boyfriend and he left me behind. Then I got lost and some people only found me today and helped me get back home.”

The two werewolves looked at each other. “That could work,” said Keith with a shrug of a shoulder.

“See? So-”

“Wait,” said Shiro. “Jason, you said. And he left you in the woods?”

“Yeah. Why?”

"This 'Jason' is Jason Bingham, right?"

"Yeah," said Lance, slowly. "How do you know that?"

"When your friends and family reported you missing, Pidge Holt pointed us in his direction. We've already spoken to him."

A chill ran through Lance. "What... What did he say?"

Shiro gazed at him for a moment. "He said that you'd had an argument in the car. Then, according to him, you were that upset that you demanded to be taken back to your dorm. Conveniently, he dropped you off on the side of the building where the CCTV camera was out of order. It's likely he knew it wasn't working and that the college hadn't gotten around to replacing it. Since you don't appear on the CCTV, it's been decided that someone plucked you off the street as you walked around the fence separating the campus from the street."

"Why did he lie?" Keith asked. He looked confused. "It wasn't his fault that Lance disappeared so why didn't he just say-"

"He didn't want anyone to blame him for Lance's disappearance, I suppose," said Shiro, though he sounded... angry.

"What would happen to Jason if I told people I was lost in the woods?" Lance asked.

"Not much," Shiro admitted. "If we know he's lying while you're missing, he could get a fine or a prison sentence. But I doubt anyone will want to put it to trial if you return."

"So there won't be a problem if I just turn up?"

Again, Shiro hesitated. "Yes," he finally said.

"What are you talking about?" Lance demanded.

"Have you ever heard of someone called Lucy Bairns?"

Lance froze. He briefly heard her voice in his ear, remembered the taste of Jason's cock, her laughter at something amusing he'd said, the guilt and shame he'd felt. "Lucy?" he repeated, frantically trying to think of something to say. Should he explain how Jason had just... _used_ him? His heart was beginning to pound and he had to force himself not to breathe so hard.

"Do you know her?" Shiro asked, staring straight at him.

Those eyes pinned Lance. He felt that he couldn't look away. His cheeks felt hot and he knew they were probably visibly red. Opening his mouth to speak, Lance thought about telling Shiro that he'd never heard of her. But, suddenly, he wondered why Lucy had anything to do with him, besides their link with Jason. So he said, "He... Jason was... He was cheating on her with me. Or-Or the other way around. That's why we had the argument. He mentioned she'd be there." And that statement was all true – just not the whole truth. Lance relaxed a little. "We- He... There was a time I heard her voice."

"Really? When?"

"Um, a few months ago. Just before the summer break. Before he went home – or wherever he went..." Noting Shiro's interest, Lance sneaked a glance at Keith, a little unnerved at having Keith listening. The werewolf was gnawing at another sausage, having pulled the plate back to him, his brow furrowed as he glared down at it as if the food had made him angry. Somehow, that made Lance feel flustered and he quickly looked back at Shiro.

"And what did you hear?" Shiro asked.

"What does it matter?" Lance responded, confused. "I mean, what's it got to do with _me_?"

"Just answer the question, please."

"Is this an interrogation?" Lance demanded.

"Lance," said Shiro, giving him a pained look. It was that which made Lance swallow his own questions and answer.

"I... He-He asked me to give him a... a blowjob," he explained. A clatter from beside him made him look over at Keith who was bright red. It almost made him laugh but just remembering Jason and everything that had happened with him over the last few months was making Lance feel a little sick. Lance hastened to get the story over with. "He got me to go down, under the desk, and suck him off. And, while I was down there, he answered a video call on his laptop. I didn't see it – obviously – but he managed to have an entire conversation while I was going down on him. They laughed and everything."

"What happened when... well," said Shiro who was also red in the face.

"He managed to hold it back until the call ended and then came down my throat. But I told him to break up with her before I did anything else. And he said he had." Lance lowered his eyes to the unit, his finger tracing nonsensical, circling patterns into it. "He didn't, apparently."

"And that was what the argument was about?"

"Yeah."

"Hm. Did you know that a woman named Lucy Bairns has been missing for over a year now?" Shiro asked him.

Shocked, Lance's head jerked up and he stared at Shiro. "W-What?!"

"She was supposed to be at a fancy dress party one night but no-one ever saw her turn up," Shiro explained. "Her mother reported her missing on the twentieth of September, Twenty-Sixteen."

As he scrambled for a suitable explanation, Lance suddenly heard Jason's voice, almost as if he was in the room with him. _"She's waiting for me at that party – as a sexy Little Red. She'll be good for me and let me fuck her – without all this stupid 'let's wait' nonsense."_ Lance inhaled sharply, his heart clenching, breath coming far too quick. "Was... Was she supposed to be wearing a Little Red Riding Hood costume?"

Shiro tilted his head, a grim expression on his face. "Yes, or so her friend said she'd been talking about. How do you know that?"

"He... He said she'd be there. At the party," Lance said, feeling a little faint. "That she'd be a sexy version. That-That he'd fuck her instead of me 'cause I was-" Remembering who he was talking to, Lance quickly broke off, realising that, if he continued with what he had been saying, they'd both know about... _it_. "I was being horrible to him."

Scoffing, Keith said, "Sounds like a dick." He turned to Shiro. "But are you trying to say he was involved with her disappearance?"

"We don't know," Shiro admitted. "But we do know that she had a new boyfriend that no-one knew about and he was one of the ones we interviewed. He said he didn't know her that much."

"Then it must have been a different Lucy," Lance declared. "I mean, how else would I have heard her that night?"

"He's got a point," Keith said, raising an eyebrow at Shiro.

With a shake of his head, Shiro dismissed that. "Have you heard of Karen Wodehouse?"

"No," Lance replied.

"Jason was questioned in that case, though he was only considered an acquaintance. She also had a new boyfriend nobody knew about. And no-one came forward for either of them."

"And they're both missing?"

"Yes," Shiro confirmed. "So are Kyle Anderson, Laurie Foyle, Anna von Brandt, Jacques Fournier, Lily Campbell, Sophie García González, Tony Burton and Victoria Dunne. All of them had interactions with Jason Bingham."

"Were they all students?" Lance asked, feeling as if he needed to defend his- defend Jason.

"They were, some of them from other countries."

Lance folded his arms, smirking a little. "Then it's just a coincidence," he insisted. "Lucy's a common enough name. And Jason's a student there, too – of course he'll speak to other people in his classes."

"All of them had new boyfriends," Shiro pointed out. "And your relationship with Jason wasn't all that widely known. In fact, of everyone I questioned, only Hunk and Pidge knew exactly who your boyfriend was and your family only knew vague details. Everyone else didn't realise you had one."

"That doesn't mean they were all dating Jason. That's just- It's just not possible."

"Why not?" asked Keith, looking at Lance from the corner of his eye. "He was cheating on you with this Lucy person. Why couldn't he have been dating all these people?"

"It doesn't mean he abducted them!" Lance protested.

"Charlotte Evergreen," said Shiro, abruptly.

"Wha-?" Lance paused. Then his face lit up in recognition. "Oh! Charlotte! I know her; she's in one of my classes. She's really nice and I was _so_ jealous of her when she got Jason as a tutor – before I was going out with-" He stopped, his eyes widening, his breath caught in his throat. "But... But she went... missing, didn't she?"

"At the start of September, yes," Shiro confirmed. "In that case, people knew she was having sex with her tutor but nobody knew exactly who it was or for which class."

"But... But I did," Lance absently pointed out, still reeling from this third coincidence – and the extra betrayal. "No-one questioned me."

"Hm," said Shiro, hooking a thumb and forefinger around his chin. "We talked to everyone in her classes – how did we miss you...?"

"Does... Does that mean...? Did Jason- Did he really...?" Lance couldn't find the words to ask what he didn't want to know. He could feel himself trembling, wondering what would have happened to him if he had waited where Jason had told him to. Would he be in a different prison with guards who weren't as kind?

Shiro straightened up. "I've been suspicious of him the past few times people went missing. Now, I'm more sure. The problem is that I can't tell people that I know this because _you_ have have been the one to tell me about him abandoning you."

"Why not?" Lance asked, feeling desperate. Now that he knew how much danger he had been in with Jason, he wanted nothing more than to go home for some motherly hugs.

"The investigation into your disappearance would stop as soon as you were found," Shiro explained. "Even if you tell them that Jason left you in the woods, there's not much we can charge him with. Not that our Sheriff would, anyway. We definitely wouldn't be able to hold him in a cell for very long – you'd be in danger."

"So what are you getting at?" Keith asked, frowning deeper.

"I'm sorry, Lance," said Shiro, grimacing in apology. "Could I ask you to stay here? Jason's still on our list of suspects, even if the Sheriff and Deputy have been focussing elsewhere. If I can get the charge to stick... And if I can find out what happened to those students..."

"You... You want me to stay _here_?!" Lance exclaimed, gesturing around the room. "Wha-? No. No, no, no, _no_! I want to go home!" His hands still shook and, when he realised that, he hugged himself, clutching at his shirt. "My family..."

"It's a lot to ask," Shiro commented, nodding. "And I wouldn't ask you to stay in any other circumstances. But those people could still be alive somewhere, in dire need of help. You could help me save them. Please, Lance."

He looked up at Shiro, blinking at him. Shiro's grey eyes were fixed on him and Lance could see in them a determination. It was the determination to do his duty; the determination to save those young men and women; the determination to keep Lance safe, to get him home without the threat of Jason hanging over his head. Neither of them looked away, an understanding seeming to pass between them. Lance knew that his subterfuge would help the police stop Jason from whatever he was doing. And he wouldn't have to make his decision over whether to go back to Jason or break up with him completely if he stayed hidden.

"Wait a minute!" Keith suddenly interrupted him. "You're not being _serious_ , Shiro! I don't want _him_ here!"

Lance rolled his eyes. "Should've thought of that before you wolf-napped me."

"That's not even a thing!" Keith snapped.

"Well, it is _now_."

"Get out of my house," growled Keith, leaning towards Lance so he could scowl deeply at him.

"Oh, you _want_ Jason to find me and, I dunno, lock me in a basement somewhere?"

"Ye-" Keith stopped suddenly, his entire body tense. There was a long silence. Lance blinked at him, his face relaxing slightly as he grew more confused than angry. What was wrong with the werewolf now?

Shiro finally broke the silence. "Please, Keith. I trust you to keep him perfectly safe. From everyone," he added and that last part seemed to be significant. Lance gave them both puzzled looks.

Taking a deep breath, Keith slowly shook his head. "Fine. Whatever. But _you_ have to bring him... _stuff_."

Smiling in relief, Shiro nodded. "Of course. I'll come back in a few days with whatever Lance needs."

"Clothes," Lance piped up. "Face masks and moisturisers. There're specific brands so I'll need to write them down. Uh, my laptop? Can I have that? I wanna at least make a start on the assignment that was due... today? I've lost track of days..."

“Sorry,” said Shiro, apologetically. “Your laptop has been taken in as evidence and will be released to your mother once the case has gone cold.”

“Oh,” said Lance with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sure your professors will help you catch up once we get you back to your life,” Shiro kindly told him. “Don't worry about anything. I’ll make sure to look in on your family and friends and help them when they need it.” _Since you can't_ , went unsaid.

“Thanks, uh, Deputy.”

“You can call me Shiro.”

“Tsk!” Both Lance and Shiro started at the sound and glanced over at Keith. He was scowling at a point somewhere between them, not meeting their eyes.

“What?” Lance snapped.

“Nothing,” Keith replied in a low voice.

Shiro interrupted them before they could get started. “Keith. Please try to get along.” He fixed Lance with his stern gaze. “ _Both_ of you.” He stood up and Lance suddenly felt panicked - all the more so when he began to quickly clear their breakfast away. “I have to go now. I’m already rather late.”

“What, now?” said Lance, eyeing Keith.

“Yes. I’m sorry to just abandon the two of you right now but neither of you are in any danger." Shiro turned to Keith. "Do you have a piece of paper and a pen? I have the feeling I'm going to have a long list."

* * *

Lance wrote down as much as he could think of in the few minutes it took for Shiro to get his stuff together. Once he had everything, Keith showed Shiro to the door while Lance hovered at the kitchen doorway. He watched them exchange a few quiet words before Shiro clasped Keith's good shoulder in a show of solidarity and left them alone.

The ensuing silence was deafening.

When Keith finally let the door swing shut, he turned and glared at Lance. It made Lance remember the last time they had been alone together and he winced, shrinking in on himself. What would Keith say or do? He clenched his fists and waited to defend himself.

"I'm tired," Keith declared.

"Huh?" said Lance.

"I'm going to bed."

"Wait, _what_?" Lance cried, watching Keith head for the stairs. "You're just gonna leave me alone?"

"Not that it's any of your business but transforming between wolf and man isn't easy." Keith turned at the bottom of the stairs and folded his arms. "Being injured doesn't help."

Again, Lance winced. "I-"

"Just keep quiet and out of my room," Keith ordered. "It's the first on the left." With that, he spun on his heel and climbed the stairs.

"Hey! Wait!" Lance called after him but he got no response.

Silence fell once more but this one was laden with possibilities – had Keith really left him to do whatever he liked?

Experimentally, Lance took a step towards the front door. No-one shouted at him. No-one came thundering down the stairs. No-one stopped him. So he took another step. And another. Picking up the pace, Lance soon found himself at the door which kept him from the outside world. He paused to check over his shoulder but Keith was nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, he reached out for the handle. Still, nothing happened. Grasping it, he turned it and pulled the door open. It swung open quietly and Lance slipped out, pulling it shut with a little click. He blinked down at the handle then looked up, as if he could look through the house and frown at Keith, wondering why he hadn't appeared. Had he really not heard him? Was Lance free to do as he wished?

Turning, Lance looked over the bright world before him. Yet again, the birds were flitting about singing, all manner of them dancing around each other. Chipmunks and squirrels darted around tree trunks. Flowers held out their petals for the sun. Lance smiled at the scene. Then, without looking back, he walked down the porch steps and crossed the area in front of it, heading for the treeline.

He could just leave. It may have been implied that he'd stay there for a while when he asked for things, but he didn't actually _promise_ anything. Everyone he knew was just to the west of him, not far at all. Maybe he'd even find the path he had been looking for a few days ago. And, the best part was, it was the middle of the day – there was no way either of the werewolves could find him if he just disappeared.

Reaching the first tree, he stopped and, as his thoughts went down a different track, he reached out and placed a hand against the bark. A spider crawled up the trunk just a few inches from his hand, unaware of Lance's presence. Maybe Jason was like the spider, spinning lies and drawing people in until he wrapped them up in silk and hid them somewhere. What exactly _did_ Jason do to them? Was Jason guilty or was it just wishful thinking? Did Lance _want_ Jason to be the baddie here? That way, he would never have to confront him, would never have to tell anyone what happened that night.

If he went home, would anyone find those students if Jason _was_ the one taking them?

After a while, the spider reached the space between the trunk and a branch. Lance blinked at the web he'd not noticed. The spider crawled onto it and began to make it bigger. For a while, Lance watched it, fascinated at the way its legs worked. He felt a little distant as he watched, adrift in his own thoughts.

Finally, Lance took a deep breath – and made his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After giving Jason that surname in my head, I realised that Bingham was the name of the guy Jane marries in Pride and Prejudice. He does not live up to it.
> 
> Also, I don't think Shiro's dealing with this particularly well but at least he's on Lance's side.
> 
> EDIT: It's Bingley in Pride and Prejudice and I have failed.


	4. Don't Peep Into Every Corner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda glad for all the snow these past few days as I've been stuck in the house and managed to finish this before the new season goes up - now I won't be annoyed at myself for abandoning this to watch it, heh.
> 
> Also... I realised while writing this one that it's gonna be... pretty slow. Until Shiro turns up again, anyways. Because, I mean, these two are pretty stubborn and it's a big house.

There was a clock ticking in the living room. It was shaped like a cat, red, and just quiet enough to be irritating if listened to for long enough. Lance had spotted it when he'd entered the room since it was directly opposite the door and attached to the wall. He hadn't noticed the ticking when he'd decided the best thing to do was to sit on the couch and... wait. Now, though, he was wishing he'd stayed in the kitchen.

Oddly enough, Keith's living room contained a TV, several games consoles and bookcases filled with books, DVDs and games. Lance was still confused as to how he got electricity to the house, let alone cable. But the amount of different things there made sense; Lance suspected Keith got bored a lot, being out here on his own. The couches were comfortable and only one spot seemed to have been sat on, if the small marks and indents were anything to go by. A couple of cosy, squat armchairs crowded around the couch. Another window seat took up much of the window which looked over the backyard and those poles he had noticed before.

He frowned at the room, confused as to why Keith stayed here while Shiro led a relatively normal life in town. Hell, everyone knew Shiro. Lance was a little surprised that no-one had noticed he disappeared five nights of the month. Would people figure it out? Would they follow Shiro and find him?

Since he'd made his decision, Lance wasn't sure if he wanted that to happen or not.

So he paced, circling the couches. Had staying been the right thing to do? Lance certainly wanted to help people in trouble. But... did he really want to go up against Jason? Was Jason really behind all this? And was staying with his actual kidnappers the best thing to do? Had he gotten Stockholm's Syndrome already? Not that he was about to start dating either Keith or Shiro.

Stopping in front of the clock, he glowered at it, vaguely noting that it was late morning now. How long did Keith plan on sleeping? Should Lance wake him up? Did he _want_ him awake? Lance didn't want to start using his TV in case he objected when he came back downstairs. But wasn't there a saying about letting sleeping dogs lie? Could he take a book? His track record with Keith's books, though, was not exactly stellar.

Was he even allowed to go anywhere else? Should he be in here?

Lance sighed: he had a lot of questions and no-one to answer them.

Giving up, Lance flopped onto the couch and listened to the clock for a while. Then, after precisely 37 seconds of enduring that, he leapt to his feet and strode to the nearest bookshelf full of books. He scanned it, not really taking in any of the titles. Then he caught sight of something familiar and, with a snort of mild amusement, pulled the book from the shelf. _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_. In fact, the entire series was there, all in paperback. Lance debated for a moment whether it would be a good idea to just go ahead and read it. With a shrug, he took it back to the couch and curled up with it, trying not to think of the last time he'd read the book to his younger brother.

His stomach started rumbling by the time he got to the Sorting Hat, humming the tune he usually used to sing it to. He paused and grimaced: though Shiro had cooked a lot only a few hours before, Lance hadn't been able to stomach a full plate of it. Glancing up, Lance looked around, as if Keith had miraculously entered the room without him noticing. Of course, nobody was around and Lance decided he'd have to find Keith himself.

Just as he'd left the room, leaving the book behind, Lance heard movement and, as he reached the bottom of the steps, so did Keith. They both paused, eyeing each other warily. When Keith didn't seem about to move or speak, Lance piped up. “It's lunchtime,” he said. “I was just coming to find you.”

“Why?” asked Keith, sounding rather snappy.

“So you can make me lunch,” said Lance slowly, just in case Keith hadn’t woken up yet. “Y’know, ’cause it's lunchtime.”

Keith stared at him. Lance thought it was a glower at first but, as he glared back, Lance realised his brow wasn't as furrowed as before. In fact, he looked quite bewildered. Or maybe it was consternation. "And why do I need to make you lunch?" he finally said.

"Uh, because you're the _host_ ," Lance pointed out. Keith sighed at that and moved off, heading for the kitchen. Frowning, Lance followed. "You're also my _kidnapper_ and I'm fairly sure professional kidnappers have to keep people alive."

“I’m not a professional kidnapper,” Keith replied. He headed straight for the fridge and began pulling out meat and butter. Then he turned to the bread.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Lance retorted with an added snort of disbelief. “I mean, you have the chains and everything.”

“Those aren't for you.” Keith pulled out a plate as he spoke, beginning to construct a sandwich on it.

Lance couldn't really refute that so he kept quiet. He watched Keith work, the clinking of the knife against the plate not quite enough to dispel the growing tension. It didn't take Lance long to decide to break it. “Do you only eat sandwiches when you're not snacking on people's hearts?” The words came out without him thinking and he grimaced at how accusatory it sounded.

The sharp slap of the knife being slammed down made Lance wince. Keith turned to glare at him. “I’m going back to my room,” he informed Lance.

“Wait, what about lun-”

“Do whatever you want!” Keith snapped. He spun on his heel and stormed from the room, stomping up the stairs. Lance flinched when he heard a distant door slam shut.

Turning back to the food that Keith had left out, Lance sighed. It looked as though sandwiches were going to be on the menu for a while.

* * *

After eating, Lance decided to take Keith's ‘do whatever you want’ to mean for everything. That meant he could use his TV and read his books. And, in the case of a curious kidnapee, poking around to find out more about Keith.

He started off in the kitchen, munching his way through a ham and cheese sandwich. When he'd been putting the butter away, he noticed that there wasn't much in it. Just the butter and cheese and a box of eggs, along with a packet of sliced turkey. It was a little pitiful and he closed it. The cupboards offered a better choice with a variety of tinned meals and instant noodles. A packet of pasta was half-full but looked forlorn in a cupboard on its own. Inside the freezer was some ice cream and a microwaveable meal for one that looked rock solid. Also, when Lance squinted at it, it proved to be out of date.

No wonder Keith ate sandwiches for every meal.

Aside from the pitiful food stock, Lance found that Keith had a cupboard full of helpful items for cooking. Baking tins and pasta makers were shoved into one of them. Lance also found some flour and what turned out to be a half-used bag of icing sugar. He had no idea what Keith could have used it for if he hadn't even opened the palette knife, still nestled in the plastic it had been bought in.

With a grimace, he closed the cupboards and wondered how on Earth they were supposed to survived for the next few days, let alone however long he'd be stuck there.

Next, he rifled through the cupboard he found in the hall. Clearly, this was where Keith kept his cleaning products. The sight of the mop reminded him of the water that had been in the jug he'd thrown at Keith. Had it dried up or should he go down to mop it up for him? He frowned at his thoughts; no way was he gonna help that grumpy jerk. Maybe if he said please...

Moving on, he returned to the living room. This time, he turned on the TV and all his consoles, noting the games and TV programmes he used or watched the most. Lance was disappointed when he found hardly any shooting games but he noticed that Keith had the complete collection of Assassins' Creed. He'd noticed the books earlier and decided Keith must be a fan. Especially when he saw that he also had the DVD of the film.

Finding out that Keith had a Netflix account was a little mind-blowing. Just how did he get Internet access all the way out here? Who did he let install it? Was there someone out there who knew about the house who wasn't Keith, Shiro and Lance? And how did he afford it – he certainly didn't appear to have a regular job so where had all the money come from?

Looking through said Netflix account was... an experience. There were general movies that most people had seen. TV programmes which weren't exactly huge but popular within their niche fans. And then there was all the Sci-Fi and alien stuff. A lot of it. Almost too much. The X Files were clearly his favourite thing to watch, though, as it was at the top of his list. But there was also Star Trek and Star Wars and Stargate – a lot of stuff with 'star' in the title. In fact, Lance also saw Stardust in there which confused him as that had nothing to do with space.

But the documentaries were the most alarming. There were plenty of alien documentaries, ones Lance was fairly sure were centred around how the government was covering up alien landings. Bigfoot leered from the screen as Lance scrolled through them. Vague giant moth shapes loomed out at him. Strange looking animals and aliens and ghost hunters and- Lance had to stop, getting more worried as he went along. Did Keith actually believe in all of this stuff? He hoped not: what if he wanted to sacrifice Lance to a Mothman or something?

When he moved over to look at the books more closely, he even found books on the stuff mixed in with the rest of them. There was a lot of science fiction, quite a bit of horror and the odd fantasy. Of the fantasy books, a lot of them were set on modern day Earth, like the Dresden Files and The Mortal Instruments. There was also a sort of plain book which caught Lance's eye since it had Mothman in the title. He immediately regretted pulling it out to look; he so did not want to know about Keith's fantasies. Shuddering, he returned it to the shelf and looked around, frowning.

Except for the things Keith obviously used to keep himself entertained, there was absolutely nothing else. No trinkets from holidays or past gifts. No photographs. No decorations, not even a cheap painting or sketch. The furniture was all plain or old or both. This room could be anyone's; there was no sign of Keith in it.

Leaving the room, Lance found that there was a built-in conservatory at the back of the house for some reason. Apart from lounging chairs and couches and a garden table, there was a large cupboard. When Lance peeked inside, he found things for cutting the grass and other tools which didn't look as though it had been used. There were also packs of unopened seeds: carrots, peas, runner beans, tomatoes... Lance wondered why Keith hadn't bothered to plant them. Surely that would make him more self-sufficient?

The only other room on the ground floor was the dining room which had the traditional long table and stiff-backed chairs. There was a large cabinet for fancy dishes but, seeing as the entire room had a layer of dust, Lance didn't think anything in there had been used. Also, the walls didn't seem to be properly decorated, sweeping shades of red spread in parallel lines and standing out against the white plaster. Lance also found a pile of paint tins in the corner. It was as if Keith had started to decorate and then given up. Considering the size of the room and the table, Lance guessed that he'd stopped when he'd realised there was not much point in a dining room if he was never going to be entertaining anyone.

Heading upstairs, he looked around the room that he'd been given but it had nothing in it besides the necessities and what appeared to be a few of Shiro's clothes. He didn't dare look into Keith's room and the only other one save for the bathroom was another guest bedroom. It was covered in dust and obviously rarely used. The duvet on the bed was folded up and none of the sheets were on it. And there was still no decorations or bright colours. Everything was pale or beige. It seemed that Keith had given up on the interior design – or maybe he just hadn't cared.

As Lance began to make his way back down to the living room in defeat, he caught sight of a pole propped up against the door frame of his makeshift bedroom. There was a hook on the end and he blinked at it. He'd not noticed that at all. What was it doing there? It kinda looked like it was made for grabbing something... Looking around, he could see nothing to either side. Then, shaking his head at his slow brain, he looked up. Sure enough, there was a trapdoor in the ceiling, clearly for an attic space. There was a hoop set into it and, with a grin, Lance grabbed the pole.

It opened quietly and hung down, swinging with a slight creaking noise. Lance wondered when Keith had last been up there if it was making a noise like that. He spotted the end of a set of ladders and, as carefully as he could, he pulled them down, moving it bit by bit so as not to make too much of a racket. Attracting Keith's attention at this stage was probably a bad idea. Finally, it was all the way down, ready for him to climb. He set the pole aside and did exactly that.

Reaching the top, Lance straightened – and immediately hit something that was hanging from the ceiling. He nearly squealed in fright, gasping as he tried to stop himself. Instinctively, quickly, he grasped for whatever it was and realised that it was mostly spherical with some sort of string attached to it. Willing his heart rate to slow, he chuckled to himself, sounding a little nervous even to himself. It was just the light bulb. Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to worry about. Gulping down another breath of air, he tugged at the string and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

Like it had been for the rest of the house, there was hardly anything in the attic. There was a small boiler... No, it looked like it was something electric. Lance couldn't figure it out but he assumed it was a generator of some sort. Next to it was an actual boiler, powered by electric as well. Lance remembered seeing the panel for it in the cupboard on the first floor. Apart from that, there were only two boxes. One of them was square and the other was longer but just as wide.

Something about them made Lance hesitate. Sure, he had poked around the rest of the house but these seemed a bit more personal. Yet... His curiosity was piqued. There was so little in the house which told him where Keith had come from, who he was, how he had become a werewolf. Had Shiro turned him and that was why he was bigger than Keith? Or was it proportional to their body sizes and Keith had turned him? Would he find answers in these boxes?

Then again, Keith was holed up in his room. He probably wouldn't notice if Lance had a peek. And what Keith didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Lance paused as he stopped in front of the long parcel. Opening these wouldn't kill Lance, either; unless there were cursed items in the boxes... Lance grimaced but shook his head at himself. Werewolves might be real but that didn't mean magic and jinxes and all that stuff were.

Almost nervously, Lance reached out to the long box. He half-expected someone (Keith) to cry out before he could touch it, to interrupt him before he found out too much about him. But nothing like that happened and he was able to pull the lid off the box. Perplexed, he blinked down at a fancy sword. It was made of some sort of black metal, with a sweeping edge which curved ever so slightly on either side. To Lance, it seemed it was bulging with barely contained power. The hilt was simple with no flourishes and a good grip.

In awe, Lance lifted it from the box, carefully feeling the weight of it. He looked it over, noticing the sharp edges and the gleam of the metal. This was taken care of, he was sure – so why was it in the attic and not on display? His mind returned to the poles he had seen outside and wondered if Keith actually trained with the sword. Maybe he had been some sort of sportsman. Deciding not to accidentally injure himself while being nosy, Lance started to put the sword back. However, he spotted something else in the box so he set it aside and plucked the second item out.

It was a knife, exactly the same shape as the sword. The hilt was wrapped in a cloth of some sort. Again, it was sharp and polished, clearly cared for. But something about it, even in the dim lighting, made Lance think that it had been made _before_ the sword. He wondered why Keith would make a replica of a knife.

Once he'd put both of them back in the box and replaced the lid, Lance turned to the other box. This time, he didn't hesitate, secure in the knowledge that Keith wouldn't find him rummaging through his stuff. He was expecting some other weapon, maybe defused grenades or a bunch of handguns. Instead, he found photographs... trinkets... letters? In fact, this all seemed like the sort of thing that was way too important to be in the attic. He couldn't understand why it was there.

The topmost photo showed a younger Keith with a bag slung over his shoulder. He was giving the camera a weak smile: it was clear to Lance that he hadn't wanted the picture to be taken. Considering that Keith was wearing a red t-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans, Lance couldn't quite work out why he had been made to pose against a wall like that. Unless it was his first day at school. Lance picked it up and flipped it over. There was nothing written on it so, with a shrug, he set that aside.

Underneath it was another photo. This one of Keith and Shiro, grinning. It was obviously a selfie, perhaps taken by Shiro. He squinted at it but, as both their free arms stretched out of sight, he couldn't tell. Keith's hair had fallen in front of his eye so he had that closed as he laughed at whatever was going on. Shiro was grinning so hard his eyes were almost shut. Chuckling, Lance set that aside, too.

Beneath that was an envelope. Lance lifted it and realised that it was rather heavy for a letter. Bulky, too. He wondered what was in it, the desire to know strong. Yet, at the same time, if it was a letter, that would be going too far. That was far too personal to peek into. Lance let out a sigh and began to put it down.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're _doing_?!"

Jolting in surprise, Lance dropped the envelope. He barely noticed the photos which spilled out from it as he quickly turned towards the trapdoor. Keith's head was poking out, glowering at him fiercely. Heart still hammering far too fast, Lance opened and shut his mouth, unable to think of something he could say. There was no way he could say 'nothing!'

"I, uh..." he managed.

Before he could finish, Keith clambered up the rest of the way and launched himself across the space separating them. Lance only had time to flinch before Keith had grabbed his wrist and wrenched him towards the trapdoor. "Get out!" he yelled.

Off balanced, Lance fell over, slapping his hand onto the floor in order to stop himself from landing on his face. Keith didn't seem to care, yanking on his arm over and over. "Wait!" Lance cried. "Wait, stop, let me just-"

"Let you what? Search through my stuff?" Keith snapped, finally dropping his hand as if it was something disgusting. With a pang of guilt, Lance realised he was exactly that.

"No! I was just curious! And bored. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Watch TV," Keith answered, his voice almost a growl. "Read a book. Play a game. I don't care."

"See, that's why I decided to go exploring," Lance retorted, glowering at him. "If I've gotta live with you, then I should get to know you – but you don't have anything anywhere. You're like a ghost." _Or an animal_ , Lance had the sense not to say.

"Clearly, I didn't want you looking at this stuff or it'd be downstairs," Keith told him, still scowling.

"Well, I'm sorry, all right!" Lance exclaimed. "This whole situation's kinda stressful and I just-"

"You don't need to stick around if you don't want to," Keith interjected.

Lance stilled, staring at him. "Is that your way of saying I should 'get lost'?"

"Whatever," said Keith with a shrug of his shoulder. His head was turned away now, determinedly not looking at Lance. "You could've been gone by now, back to your family and friends that you keep going on about. I don't know why you're still here."

For a moment, Lance couldn't say anything. Keith had just voiced exactly what he had been thinking a few hours before. He was still a little conflicted about his decision to stay and this didn't help. Now, he wanted nothing more than to leave. It wasn't his fault if the cops found out about the werewolves, if a mob drove them away. It wouldn't be his fault, either, if those girls weren't found. Maybe they were already dead and there was no point to this. Nobody could blame him for getting somewhere safe.

But he would.

"I know you don't want me here," said Lance in a low voice, irritated now. "But I'm not going _anywhere_ . Not till Shiro's caught Jason- caught _him_ red-handed. So get used to it."

"Fine," said Keith. "But if you ever come up here again, I'll throw you out."

"Whatever," Lance said. "Get outta the way, then, Wolfy." He made shooing motions with his hands as he crawled over to the ladder.

Keith rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He winced as he moved – something Lance wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been glaring at him. Pausing, Lance stared at him, concern and guilt rising within him once more. His shoulder...

When he stopped moving at the realisation, Keith frowned at him. "What now?" he demanded.

"Your... Are you okay?" Lance asked, looking back to the ladder and the hall below. "Should you be up here?"

"I'm fine," Keith told him. "Now, get lost."

If it had been anyone else, Lance would've offered to help him out. He would have insisted on checking the bandages and changing them if needed. But Keith obviously didn't want him around and this was what felt like the hundredth argument between them. So he merely turned himself around and climbed down the ladder.

His head was still in the attic when he finally glanced over at Keith one last time. Lance paused and watched as Keith stared down at a photo he had picked up. Both of them were still for a while, Lance wondering what the hunching of Keith's shoulders meant. Then, without warning, he scooped up the photos and unceremoniously dropped them back into the box. Biting his lip to keep from gasping in his surprise, Lance hurried down the rest of the ladder. As soon as he set foot on the floor, he rushed back down the stairs, not stopping until he had reached the living room, presuming that Keith wouldn't follow him, nor would he decide to use the TV all of a sudden.

* * *

For the next few hours, Lance stayed in the living room. He knew he was hiding but, with Keith's Netflix, he was able to watch Brooklyn 99 and that was an excellent distraction. So he sprawled across the couch, laughing at the show he'd seen who knew how many times before. It helped cheer him up quite a bit; hopefully, he thought, he could cheer Keith up, too. Or, at least, make him less angry.

Not that he wanted to do that any time soon. Maybe the next day would be best. Or the day after. Or maybe when Shiro returned with all their stuff, whenever that would be.

He waited until his stomach was grumbling before he ventured from the living room again. There was very little chance that Keith was going to make him dinner so he was determined to make himself something other than sandwiches. So, after he'd taken a deep breath to prepare himself, Lance stalked off to the kitchen to find that it was empty, lit dimly by the setting sun. He flicked on the light and entered the room.

Despite looking around earlier, he still had to take a guess on where things were. However, it wasn't long before he'd pulled out some pasta, pasta sauce, cheese and... After sniffing the turkey in the fridge, he threw it out and decided just to use the ingredients which seemed safe. As he worked, he wondered what Hunk and Pidge were doing. He wished he could be with them, waiting for Hunk to whip up something much more delicious than he could ever hope to make.

Lance sighed as he pulled out a pot. If only he could contact them, tell them what was going on, maybe get them to come to the house... That would make this all the more bearable. He got the pasta going as he mourned the loss of his phone. Would anyone ever find it? Would anyone find that woman? What would happen when they did? A flutter of worry shot through him: should he ask Keith about that? Then he shook his head and tried to push it from his mind. That wasn't his business.

Once the pasta had finished cooking and he'd mixed it in with the sauce and melted cheese, Lance found a large bowl and piled in as much as he could. He'd misjudged how much pasta he needed and there was enough for a couple more people. Lance winced as he realised that he'd subconsciously made enough for himself and his two best friends. For a moment, he could only stare at it. Then he put the lid on the pot and left it on the hob so it would keep warm, even with it switched off.

Once that was done, he took the small amount of cutlery and the smaller bowl he'd used for grating the cheese to the sink. He made sure to fill the bowl with warm water to wait until he'd finished eating before he washed them properly. Before he moved away, he looked out the window, taking in the trees and flowers, still lit up by pools of sunlight. He saw a squirrel darting up a tree and watched it go until he caught sight of something else.

If Lance had still been holding something, he would have dropped it.

Amongst the trees, standing perfectly still, was a figure. It was shaped like a man and stood mostly in the shadows. Lance couldn't make out any features but he had the feeling that whoever or whatever it was, they were staring right at him, watching. Had probably been watching him the whole time he'd been in the kitchen. With his current situation, Lance immediately thought of Jason. Had he found Lance already? Was he out there, watching him, planning on what to do to him next?

Lance couldn't help letting out a shriek as he stumbled away from the window. He backed away and jumped when he hit the island. With another yell, he turned and rushed from the room. But, once he was in the hall, he had no idea what to do or where to go. Turning to the front door he, wondered if it could lock. Should he barricade it? What about the back door? And all that glass that Jason could smash in the conservatory? Should he ask Keith for help? He turned towards the stairs and let out another yell: Keith was standing halfway down them, staring at him in surprise.

"What's...?" Keith trailed off, as if he wasn't sure how he wanted to phrase his question.

The sight of Keith somehow calmed Lance. Jason wouldn't be able to hurt him when Lance was with a _werewolf_. He tried to calm himself as he rushed to the foot of the stairs. "It's- There's someone out there! Just standing there, watching me. I-I- It might be Jason!"

Keith frowned and hurried down the stairs, Lance letting him past. "Where?" he demanded.

"Out the kitchen window!"

Instantly, Keith left his side. Lance felt a little uneasy now that Keith wasn't within sight. However, he stayed where he was, unwilling to go into the room where Jason could see him. If it was Jason. And, if it wasn't, who could it be? Lance shuddered and hoped Keith would be able to scare them off.

But, when Keith came back out, he didn't look worried or alarmed or angry. In fact, his face was devoid of emotion as he glanced at Lance. "There's no-one there," he told him.

"What?!" Lance exclaimed. "But there was definitely someone out there! Or some _thing_. Maybe they ran off."

"It's fine. There's nothing to worry about," said Keith, rather dismissively.

"What do you-?! There was someone _out there_ , Keith!" Lance cried. "They might even know you're a werewolf. Maybe they think _I'm_ a werewolf. Oh, God, what if it was a Hunter thingy and they try to shoot me with a silver bullet and I'll die cause I'm a regular human and it'll kill-"

"Stop!" Keith shouted. "It's fine. It was probably just your imagination."

"Are you trying to say I'm seeing things?!"

"Well, yeah," said Keith with a shrug, though he was beginning to look exasperated. "I mean, this is a stressful situation. Maybe you were worrying about Jason and you thought you saw him."

Lance was about to protest when he realised that it was possible. He'd been pushing it to the back of his mind with his exploration and forcing it away when he was watching Brooklyn 99. Maybe thinking about his friends and his life before he got here had brought it back to his attention. Still, the thought that Jason could have been out there, watching him... He shuddered again and, when Keith finally looked alarmed, turned away from him.

"Right. Yeah. Okay. I'm gonna eat in the living room." Lance stepped around Keith.

"Try not to spill anything," Keith told him. It sounded like something he was saying just to respond to Lance.

"Mm," said Lance, crossing the room to pick up his bowl of pasta. He didn't dare look over at the window. When he turned, though, he nearly dropped his food in surprise. Keith was in the doorway, watching him, frowning. "What?" Lance demanded.

Keith looked over to the window. "Nothing," he mumbled.

"Hmph," said Lance. He crossed the room again and sidled past Keith. The werewolf moved over, still watching him go. Once he was in the hall, Lance took a step away from him before stopping. "There's still pasta there," he said, not bothering to turn to Keith. "For dinner. I made far too much."

"Right."

"And, um." Lance stopped. There was so much he wanted to say. And yet he didn't want to say any of it. He didn't want to start up a conversation with this guy, his kidnapper. But, at the same time, he wanted company. Sighing, Lance decided that he should at least say one thing in particular. "I'm sorry," he told Keith, turning his head to look at him over his shoulder. "For earlier."

Instead of responding, Keith only looked at him. For a few seconds, Lance wondered if he'd said it loud enough, if he'd even said it aloud at all. Then, with a small, sharp nod, Keith spun on his heel and re-entered the kitchen. Pursing his lips, Lance turned away as well. He sighed heavily and started off towards the living room. Lance wasn't even sure if Keith's nod had been an acceptance of the apology, a dismissal, an acknowledgement of the leftover pasta... or something else? He shoved that from his mind as he settled onto the couch once more.

It wasn't until he returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes that he discovered that Keith had, in fact, taken some of the pasta. Hopefully, Lance thought to himself as he made his way to the sink, that meant he was forgiven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I realised halfway through writing this that it's basically almost Beauty and the Beast with the attic and all...)
> 
> Edit: Aw, geez. I forgot. I wanted to share with you... a thing... which is... horrible. And real. The book that Lance pulls out about Mothman... is [this one](https://www.amazon.co.uk/Erotic-Encounters-Mothman-Supernatural-LeesSeal/dp/1512101672). I've had a look and I do not suggest buying it.


	5. And Knocked at the Door

Lance didn’t sleep very well that night. The nightmares he’d been having since the full moon plagued him again. Now, though, there was the added terror of being watched, a calculating gaze taking apart the house before reaching in to grab him. Wolves ran rampant around him while Jason’s kind smile beckoned to him, calling him to the darkness.

When he was finally released from the depths of sleep, Lance jolted upright, clutching at the sheets and trying to calm his breathing. It was still dark outside and he hastened to leap across the room for the lightswitch. Once he was bathed in light and he could see that there wasn’t anyone sitting in the corner watching him, no wolves or twisted boyfriends, Lance eventually relaxed. He listened to his heartbeat as it slowed, waiting till it wasn’t as frenzied before moving to sit on the bed. Looking at the clock, he noticed that it was **08:10**.

As dawn wasn’t far off, Lance decided he might as well go make breakfast and get ready for… sitting around doing nothing important. He sighed, tugging for the umpteenth time on the white t-shirt he was still wearing. It just about covered him enough but, having worn it all day the day before and then in bed, he felt kind of disgusting. Lance yearned for a shower, with his own hygiene products. And his own clothes. However, in lieu of that, Lance pulled out a top and pants from the wardrobe and plucked an unopened pack of underwear from the chest of drawers. With that, he slipped from the room and down the hall, leaving the light on.

Once he felt clean, Lance returned to the room to gather up the laundry before heading down the stairs. The house was silent, a pang of homesickness shooting through Lance. Usually, if he woke earlier than normal, his parents would wake and ask what was wrong. When his mom deemed it an acceptable time to be up, she would make him breakfast and listen to his nightmares. Sometimes his siblings would be awake and he’d read them stories or organise gaming tournaments. Those usually woke everyone else.

Chuckling at the memory of his older sister yelling obscenities at Mario Kart at nine in the morning, Lance entered the kitchen and found the washing machine. There was no basket or anything else for laundry to be put in so he threw everything in there with the intent of sorting it out later. In the meantime, he pulled out the eggs and butter and a pan for cooking it all on. After a bit of rummaging, he also found salt and pepper in a little cruet set. The tops for them were crusted over but Lance unscrewed them to risk the stuff inside which seemed… okay. Grimacing, he found a bowl and began to make up a mix for an omelette.

Thankfully, there was enough mix for two platefuls.

He ate in silence, sitting at the island. The sun slowly came up outside and the world became lighter. Lance began to see the shadows of trees, tall and reaching. It made him think of the night before. Keith had been so adamant that they were safe and yet… Lance abandoned his breakfast quite suddenly and made his way to the window. After taking a steadying breath, he looked outside. He wasn’t sure what he expected but there was nothing out there. A wind was picking up, rustling the tops of the trees. Nobody stood watching him and, in the light of day, Lance felt quite silly for thinking there had been anyone there at all.

Finishing off his breakfast, Lance searched for something to cover the plate and was a little surprised to actually find a box of clingfilm. So he covered up the plate and stepped back to survey his work. A thought occurred to him and he began to search the drawers again. Had he seen it in here or…? Suddenly remembering, Lance rushed to the living room and pulled a small notebook and a pen from a drawer in a small side table. He returned to the kitchen before writing out a note to set beside the plate: _Good morning, Wolfy. Here’s breakfast. You can wash the dishes. Lance xx._

Morning preparations over, Lance meandered back down the hall to find something else to do in the living room. He picked up the Sorcerer's Stone and flicked through its pages without reading. Then he cast it aside in order to put on Netflix. It took him half an hour to realise that he wasn't actually watching anything; he'd been flicking through Keith's suggestions with no idea what he actually wanted to watch.

Lance sighed: he was too restless to choose something. He wanted to go out to his favourite ice cream shop. He wanted to go to the other Halloween parties he and his friends had planned to go to. He wanted to _talk_ to someone. Maybe he could go for a walk…

He had barely stood when his eyes focussed on the games beside the consoles. There, nestled amongst the many sword-fighting games was a game he recognised. Practically launching himself across the room, Lance rushed to put on Overwatch, keen on playing something he knew would make him feel better.

In the back of his mind, Lance realised that he was genuinely grinning for the first time in what felt like forever.

* * *

An hour later, Lance was startled into killing his own character by the creaking of floorboards from above. After he’d paused, he cocked an ear and listened, head resting against his hunched shoulder. There was a silence for a moment before another creak came from the hall, perhaps on the stairs. Lance turned his head to stare at the doorway, wondering if Keith would come in. But there were no other sounds for quite some time so Lance returned to his game.

A few minutes later, Lance was killed once again, this time by a voice. “Thank you.” The words came from the door and Lance swivelled around on the couch, heart hammering in his surprise. Keith’s head was poking out from around the doorway, gazing at some point to the side of Lance, lips pursed.

For a moment, Lance couldn’t work out what he was talking about. Then it clicked. “Oh, no problem, dude,” he said, waving the controller dismissively. “I mean, I was making some for myself. And I’m using your food…”

“Still,” said Keith. He opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but shut it and ducked back out of the room.

Lance stared after him. Should he have said something else? He felt kind of weird, sitting here, playing a game while the owner of the house ignored him. It was almost as if he was intruding. Which, in a way, he supposed he was. Hadn’t Keith wanted him to leave? But, if Lance extended the hand of friendship, maybe they could actually co-exist without both of them feeling awkward. Because, surely, Keith felt awkward having his kidnapee living with him? Once he’d thought about it, second guessed himself and argued the point every which way, Lance decided that he’d go find Keith after he’d given him enough time to eat.

He waited ten minutes before he paused the game again, setting the controller aside. With a long yawn and a full-body stretch as he stood, Lance turned to the door. At that exact moment, he thought he heard a creaking noise. He paused and frowned at the door. Was Keith returning to his room? Or had that been the house settling? More creaking from upstairs soon cleared that up.

The subsequent clattering only raised more questions.

Staring at the ceiling, Lance’s brow furrowed all the more. What was Keith up to? And should he go up to help? His indecision kept him rooted to the spot, listening for a cry for help from the man himself. Instead, all he could hear was more clattering and then some creaking of the floorboards.

Finally, he gave in to his curiosity and stalked out of the living room. He had just reached the bottom of the stairs when he spotted Keith coming down them, sword attached to a belt at his hip. Lance stared up at him, taking in the fact that his hair was now tied back in a tiny ponytail. “What… are you doing?” he asked, giving Keith his best perplexed look.

Keith froze, staring down at him, brow slowly furrowing. “None of your business,” he eventually mumbled, folding his arms as he looked away.

“You’re wandering around with a dangerous weapon,” Lance pointed out. “And you’ve not made it a secret that you don’t want me here. I think it _is_ my business, if only to keep me alive.”

“I’m not gonna kill you,” Keith told him, rolling his eyes.

Raising an eyebrow, Lance waited for further explanation. When none was forthcoming, he tried to work out what Keith could possibly be doing with his sword. There was no way he could be going to cut down trees for wood- “Ah! You’re going out to those poles, aren’t ya?”

“Like I _said_ ,” Keith retorted, “it’s none of your business.”

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that.” Lance grinned up at Keith as he leaned against the bannister, trying to look cool, calm and collected. “You gotta let me watch!”

“I’m not a performing monkey,” Keith snapped. “I don’t practise with an audience.”

“Aha!” exclaimed Lance, jolting upright and pointing at him. “I knew it!”

Keith blinked at him. “What?” he asked, looking confused.

“I knew you were going out to those poles.”

Sighing, Keith ducked his head; it made him look as if he was praying for strength, even though his arms were still crossed. “You’re not going to just let me get on with things, are you?”

“Nope,” said Lance, cheerfully. “Besides, I was looking for something to do. Critiquing your swordplay will do.” He made sure to wink at him; Keith narrowed his eyes at him.

“Just don’t get in the way,” Keith said, pointing at him in a rather threatening manner.

“Or what? You gonna use the sword on me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Keith grumbled, finally descending the last few steps. He kept a fair bit of distance between them as he stepped around Lance, leading the way to the back of the house and through the conservatory.

Outside, there was a chill in the air. Lance shivered but refused to go back in to find something warmer to wear. Instead, he raised his hands to his mouth and breathed on them, hoping that would help. Keith didn’t seem bothered, despite wearing only a black t-shirt, black cargo pants and his boots. And, presumably, underwear. Lance shook his head at that thought.

Unsure whether he should move away from the door or not, Lance watched Keith move along the wall. The werewolf only stopped when he was in a space a little away from both poles and wall. Then he started to do stretches. Lance watched him with interest: he had expected him to go right into it. As it was, Lance started to get bored before he’d even drawn his sword.

And he was getting far too cold to just stand and watch.

So, since he had nothing to do, Lance began to bounce in his spot, swinging his arms. Then he began copying Keith’s stretches, though he didn’t put his full ability into it. A few minutes of this passed before Lance grew bored of that, too. “Is there even a point to the sword?” he asked, a smirk growing on his face as he realised that he’d made a pun.

Huffing in frustration, Keith straightened from his last stretch and glowered at Lance. “Do you want me to show you how sharp it is?” he snapped, brow furrowed.

Obviously, he was trying to threaten Lance into shutting up. Unfortunately for Keith, Lance only grew more amused. He snorted, smirk growing into a smug grin. “Oh, please,” he said with a wink.

Keith’s lip curled. He shook his head and did an about turn, a smooth twirl which took him through precisely 180⁰. “Just shut up. I don’t need you distracting me.”

Lance was about to make a retort when Keith proceeded to pull his sword free. At the last moment, Lance swallowed what he had been about to say: he’d already injured Keith once. He wasn’t about to distract him and make Keith stab himself with his sword. Which begged the question: could Keith kill himself with something other than silver? Also…

“Hey,” said Lance once Keith had his hands on the hilt, grip steady and sword unwavering. “Should you really be doing this? Isn’t your shoulder still hurt?” Then again, Lance realised, he hadn’t seemed in pain when he was stretching.

“I’m fine,” said Keith, dismissively.

Having dealt with the distraction (read: Lance), Keith began to swing his sword around. At least, that was the only word Lance could dredge up as he watched him. Each movement was precise, the sword whipping through the air fast enough to make a sound. To Lance, it was as if it was whispering of the danger. Keith held it without complaint or difficulty, feet dancing around the space he’d claimed for himself with nimble steps. His face was set in an expression of intense determination, eyes focussed on imaginary opponents.

Somehow, it took Lance’s breath away.

Eventually, Keith stilled, panting from the exertion. He was facing Lance again, face red from both the chill and the exercise. Strands of his hair was falling free from the hairband; it made him look far more intense, as if he had fought his way through an entire army to reach Lance. Or the house, anyway. Lance blinked at him.

“Well, uh. That was…” Lance trailed off.

Inhaling deeply, Keith held his breath a moment before letting it loose. With his breathing now relatively steady, he shrugged a shoulder. “Right,” he said.

“Wait,” said Lance as a thought occurred to him. “What’s the point of the poles when you can do _that_ without them?!”

“I’m not finished yet.” Keith spun on his heel, stalking towards one end of the section of poles.

“No, but, seriously, what’re the poles for?”

Keith audibly sighed; Lance could hear it despite their distance, mingling with the bird calls around them. Gesturing at them with his sword, Keith said, “They’re supposed to represent an enemy on the move. Like those flags on a golf course.”

“‘Enemy’?” Lance mumbled to himself. What enemy did Keith think he’d be engaging? A hunter? But everyone knew you killed werewolves with silver bullets and Keith had already basically confirmed that, so why would they be fighting him with swords? Or was this one of the things Keith didn’t want Keith to know about?

Before he could ask, however, Keith was moving. He darted and twirled around the poles, hitting every one with his sword. Sometimes it almost seemed as if he was hitting them incidentally, the sword gliding across the wood. At other times, his hits were precise, metal biting into wood at specific heights. Lance imagined a man in their places and watched Keith cripple one before almost decapitating another. A chill ran along his body and it had nothing to do with the weather.

Suddenly, Keith stumbled. Lance’s eyes flicked down and spotted the twig which had rolled under his foot. It made his next blow glance off the penultimate pole, the blade twisting in Keith’s hand. Clearly surprised, Keith’s grip broke on it and the sword went flying, burying itself in the ground at the foot of another pole. Keith didn’t pause. He used his other hand to reach behind himself and slashed at the pole he had been attacking with the knife Lance had seen in the attic. Then, with absolutely no hesitation, he flung the knife at the last one. The knife buried itself into the wood at about neck height and Lance imagined a woman there, confident in her abilities and now wide-eyed as she toppled backwards, blood spurting, knife sticking from her. He shuddered and glanced away.

When he looked back, Keith was retrieving both knife and sword, tucking the knife back into the waistband of his pants. A flick of his shirt hid it from view. Lance opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Keith launched himself into another attack. It didn’t take Keith long to reach the other side, this time with no mistakes. Then he turned around and did it again.

Eventually, his sword got stuck in a pole midway through the section. Growling, Keith tugged at it. Lance took the opportunity to speak. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, rubbing at his arms to ward off the cold.

Pausing, Keith looked over at him. Then he looked around at the poles and the house and the clearing as if he was seeing them for the first time. Fixing Lance with an unamused look, he said, “There’s no-one around to spar with.”

“Uh, what am I, chopped liver?” Lance demanded, scowling at Keith.  “I’m here now. You don’t need _poles_ , God!”

“I very much doubt that you could keep up with me,” Keith informed him.

“Wha-? I’ll have you know-!” Lance broke off, realising all too suddenly that he didn’t have any experience with martial arts or sword-fighting. But, seeing Keith’s smug smirk, Lance barrelled on. “I’ve swung a sword around a few times, you know!”

“Really?” asked Keith, tone completely disbelieving.

“Yeah!” Lance exclaimed. Keith continued to look at him expectantly and Lance had to look away. “I mean… Hunk and Pidge made me cosplay as, like, characters with swords.”

“Really?” Now Keith sounded slightly incredulous.

“Yeah!” Lance repeated, sending him a glare. “And I was pretty awesome at it.”

“You wouldn’t last five minutes against me.”

“I could too!”

“No, you really couldn’t,” Keith told him, shaking his head. “I need someone experienced to spar with.”

“It’d still be better than doing it with poles!”

Ignoring him, Keith turned back to his task. “Just stay quiet,” he said over his shoulder. “You’re distracting me.”

“Wait!” Lance cried. Keith turned back to him slowly, eyebrow raised. “That wasn’t what I meant, anyway.”

“What wasn’t?” Keith asked, frowning.

“ _Why_ are you doing this?”

Keith blinked several times. “I just told you-”

“No!” Lance waved his hand as if he was brushing that aside. “Why would you need to fight with a sword? I mean, surely the hunters turn up around the full moon, to make sure they get the right guy? Who would be attacking you with a sword? What’s the point?”

For a moment, Keith looked at him in surprise. Then his expression relaxed into something bored and neutral. Lance knew right then that Keith was hiding something, that he still didn’t trust Lance. The next words out of his mouth, Lance knew, would either be a lie or a dismissal.

Sure enough, Keith’s response was, “You don’t need to know that.”

“Wha-? Keith! I kinda do!” Lance protested.

“Oh, really? And why do you need to know?”

“Uh, dude,” Lance said, speaking a little slower in case he didn’t have the brainpower to understand him. “You’re literally practising either to attack someone or defend yourself. What if they turn up here? What if they try to attack you and I end up in the middle of it? I think I have the right to know.”

That, at least, made Keith pause. But it was only for a second. He shook his head. “No-one will come here,” Keith assured him. “You’ll be fine. And you don’t need to know.”

“It’s on a need to know basis?” Lance rolled his eyes. “That’s just stupid. I mean, I could help.”

“How?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m a good shot,” Lance told him, wagging a finger at him. “Don’t just presume that, ’cause I’ve had an actual, normal life that I haven’t got, like, combat ability.”

Eyes narrowed, Keith stared at him. “I’m still not telling you anything,” he finally said.

“Tsk, fine,” said Lance. “Whatever. I’m going in the conservatory – it’s way too cold out here.” He spun on his heel and stalked into the house, grumbling to himself. There was clearly something going on. Did Shiro know about it? Or was Keith hiding it from him as well? And where did he even get a sword and a fancy knife? Who even made swords like that?

Frustrated, Lance kicked at the cupboard. Evidently, he hadn't closed the door correctly during his snooping, as it flew open, jerking as it hit its limits. Lance blinked at it for a moment, taking in the contents again. An idea occurred to him, one that would give him something to do. Grinning, he cheerfully bounded out of the door. Keith had already begun his manoeuvres again but stopped when he spotted Lance and eyed him, probably suspicious.

"I thought you were leaving me alone," he said.

"You thought wrong. Also, why would I?" Lance spread his hands in a what-can-you-do gesture. "I mean, it kinda perks me up, annoying the guy who kidnapped me."

Sighing heavily, Keith raised a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked the picture of 'done with this shit'. "Right. Whatever. _What_ do you _want_?"

Lance paused to think about it. "Well..."

"And if you're going to say you want to go home, please know that you can leave any time you want. I won't stop you." Keith shrugged a shoulder, looking unconcerned. "I know Shiro won't be pleased and that Ja- Jay-whatever guy-"

"Jason," Lance told him, his voice a little breathless. He hadn't expected the conversation to go down this road and the mention of his... well, ex, he supposed... caught him off guard. A heaviness settled on him and he felt like he was having difficulty breathing. Lance scolded himself and told himself it was no big deal, don't get so worked up...

"-and that Jason guy will still be doing whatever it is he's actually doing, but you can still go home if you really want to."

Forcing himself to remain cheerful, Lance let his grin widen - he hoped he didn't look like an unhinged anime character. "I wasn't gonna say that," he said, his voice lilting and as sweet as he could make it. Keith's eyes narrowed further. "Actually, I was thinking this place could be doing with a makeover. Specifically to make it, like, a castle or something. Still with electricity. Which reminds me, how do you even get, like, Internet out here. Didn't someone have to install it? And-"

"Did you want something more immediate?" Keith asked, looking exasperated. "Something which made you come back out into the cold?"

"Oh, right!" Lance jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "So, like, you've got a lot of seeds and gardening stuff. Can I make a little garden? It'll give me something-"

"No," said Keith, shortly. He was frowning now, looking angry.

Confused, Lance blinked at him. "What? They're going to waste just sitti-"

"Stop looking through my stuff," Keith snapped.

"Wha-? Tha- That hardly counts!" Lance exclaimed. "They're, like, right there!" He gestured at the conservatory.

"Just mind your own business!" Keith's voice rose as he spoke till he was almost shouting. It made Lance flinch, remembering the last time Keith had stopped him leaving, the feeling of being pinned down, a hand reaching around and touching him and-

Taking a shuddering breath, Lance turned his head away, though he couldn't move, rooted to the spot as he was. When he felt he had enough air to speak, Lance nodded slightly. "Fine. Whatever. I'll be in the living room if you need me." He couldn't stop himself snorting at that: Keith wouldn't need him and, even if he did, Lance had no doubt that he wouldn't ask for it. Shaking his head at that, Lance turned, pausing only to call over his shoulder one last time. "Come play Mario Kart when you're finished."

"Wait," came Keith's voice from behind him. "Serious-?" But Lance darted into the conservatory and through into the house proper, eager to get away from the horrible feelings that accompanied those memories.

* * *

Keith didn’t stop until Lance had made up noodles for lunch. There wasn’t much else to have, which Lance grumbled about as he boiled the water. They ate together for the first time since Shiro had left, mainly because Keith came to find him while he was making the pots up. The werewolf was all sweaty, his shirt clinging to him. Lance thought he could see muscles, not as big as Shiro’s, but well-defined and enticing.

His forkful of noodles dropped into his pot and splashed him in the face at that point. He soon forgot about that particular train of thought.

Wanting a shower, Keith excused himself. Lance watched him go and wondered if he should follow him up to help with his bandages. However, something stopped him and he retreated to the living room instead. An hour later, however, Keith still hadn’t come down and Lance was still on his own in the living room. Growing concerned, Lance made his way to the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey!” he called up them, hands cupped around his mouth. “You still alive up there?”

There was a worrying pause before Keith replied. “I’m alive. Just... having problems…”

“‘Problems’? D’ya need me to come hel-?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay…”

Seeing as he’d already overstepped his boundaries twice in the last two days, Lance returned to the living room where he’d already set up Mario Kart. He’d grown bored while he waited for Keith to finish and returned to the race he had paused. Rosalina was just being set back on the track after she’d fallen off Rainbow Road. As soon as he unpaused, she was off, racing around corners and getting dangerously close to the edge. Lance grimaced as he prayed she wouldn’t fall off or be hit by the green shell coming up behind her.

It was as he was finishing his second lap that it happened.

There was a knock at the front door.

Lance froze, startled. Rosalina drove right off the bend in the road. Sighing at the fact that he was now last, Lance paused the game and set the controller aside. His paranoia was getting the best of him. Who could that possibly be? Then it clicked: Shiro must have come back earlier than he’d planned. Delighted with the prospect of proper food and actual clothes, Lance leapt up from the couch and practically danced the length of the house. He opened the front door, grin wide, ready to exclaim and worship the god-like man who was performing saviour duties.

There was no-one on the other side.

Again, Lance froze. This time, it was due to the fact that he wasn’t sure he wanted to stick his head out to look either side of the porch. What if it was Jason? What if it was whoever Keith expected to have to sword fight with?

When nothing else happened for a while, Lance cautiously poked his head out and whipped it from side to side before drawing back, heart hammering. He hadn’t seen anyone standing either side. Confounded, Lance actually stepped outside and looked around. There wasn’t anyone standing either side of the door. He could see no-one standing in the clearing or sitting on a tree stump, waiting for an answer. No shadowy figure hovered at the edge of the clearing, waiting to swoop down on him once he’d gotten closer.

Had he really heard a knock? Was the threat of Jason or whoever Keith was scared of enough to make him hear things? But he’d been concentrating on Mario Kart; why would his brain make something like that up while he was focussed on something else? Or had the knocking, three quick taps, been something to do with Keith.

Worried, Lance swung the door closed and hurried up the stairs. “Hey, Keith!” he called, wondering if he was in his own room by now. The door to the bathroom opened instead, steam wafting out, and Lance made his way towards it. “Really? You’re still in there?”

He stopped short when he took in the sight of Keith, wet and bedraggled, only a towel to cover him up. It hung low on his hips, his muscles now on display. In particular, the ‘V’ at his waist was visible, drawing Lance’s gaze. Water trailed down them, drops rolling towards the white cloth covering him. His dark hair was now even darker, dripping onto his shoulders, one of which was covered by a clear wrap. Lance grimaced when he saw the mess of the wound underneath, messily stitched up in a wonky line. He instinctively lowered his gaze and found himself gazing at the corded muscles of Keith’s legs, spread to accommodate his weight and perhaps in a fighting stance. The memory of yesterday morning threatened to pop up and Lance had to force it away, trying to forget that he knew exactly what was under that towel.

It made him feel hot under the collar.

Then that sensation reminded him of the last time he had felt like that and he had to force himself not to shudder. He was disgusted with himself for thinking of Keith in that way, however briefly. Lance took a breath, inhaling the steam and the smell of vanilla, strong in the air and wafting from Keith’s body. Teeth caught hold of his lower lip as Lance tried not to make an audible gasp.

“Sorry,” said Keith, shrugging. The movement drew Lance’s gaze back up to his face; Keith did actually look apologetic. “I… Well, I realised I couldn’t take a shower, so I had to run a bath.”

Lance’s gaze dragged across Keith’s collarbone, caught for a moment on a droplet of water which slid its way down the hollow of his throat and quickly continued on till he was staring at Keith’s injured shoulder. “Because of that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. If he had asked, Lance could have helped him. Then again, with the way he was reacting, it probably wasn’t a good idea.

Shrugging, Keith glanced into the bathroom. “So? What were you shouting about, anyway?”

Frowning at the fact that Keith was quite literally shrugging off his concern, Lance had to think for a moment to remember. Then, eyes lighting up, he peered into the bathroom. “Did you drop something a little while ago?” he asked. “Like, three things in quick succession?” He hoped that was the case because, if not…

“No,” Keith said, frowning again. Lance had the fleeting thought that he was going to get wrinkles quicker than normal at this rate.

“Are you sure?” Lance insisted.

“I didn’t drop anything, Lance. Why do you want to know, anyway?”

Seeing that Keith was serious, Lance felt a chill run down his spine and he shuddered. “There… There was a knock at the front door.” Keith stilled at his words. Lance watched him, growing worried as he closed himself off, his face becoming deliberately neutral. “I thought it was Shiro,” Lance explained, “so I opened the door. But… there was no-one there.”

“No-one?” Keith repeated, sounding perplexed.

“Yeah. I mean, I even stepped out onto the porch but there was no sign of anyone. I thought I was maybe hearing you…?”

“No…” said Keith, hesitantly. “Hang on, I’m coming down.”

“What, right now?” asked Lance as Keith stepped around him, leading the way back to the front door. “You’re… You’re only wearing – in the very loose sense of the word – a towel, Lupin. You’re gonna end up sick.”

“Did you just call me Lupin?” Keith asked, almost absently. He started down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the answer.

“Well, yeah,” said Lance. “He’s the most famous werewolf there is. More or less.”

“Fenrir Greyback, Jacob Black, Draugluin, Derek Hale, Angua von Uberwald, Michael Corvi-”

“Woah, woah, woah, back up,” Lance interjected, grinning. “Do you seriously know all these off the top of your head?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Just…” Lance chuckled. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s just… I suppose that’s… impressive?” He pursed his lips to keep from laughing.

Keith shot him a look over his shoulder. By that point, they had reached the front door and, with no hesitation, Keith opened it. He looked around for a moment. “Go make sure there’s no-one down the sides of the house,” he told Lance, peering through the trees.

“What?!” Lance exclaimed. “Why me?!”

“Towel.”

“Ah.” Lance gave Keith a sheepish look. “Right. Still…”

He hopped down the steps to the porch. With the sun high overhead, he wasn’t as worried as he had been in the house or out among the trees in the dark. However, he was still a little cautious when he reached the corner and peered around it. There was nothing except a bumbling badger, nosing at something in the undergrowth. Lance left it be and crossed in front of the house again. Keith was fumbling with the back of his towel as he passed him by; Lance gave him a wave as he went which Keith only nodded to in return. At the other corner, all he spotted was a squirrel, a couple of crows crowding around it. Having found nothing of interest, Lance returned to Keith who was now casually leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Well?” said Keith, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t see anyone except for Miss Badger, Mister Squirrel and the Crow Triplets,” Lance informed him, pleased with himself for giving them all names.

“Right…” said Keith, other eyebrow raising.

“But I definitely heard knocking,” Lance protested.

“Maybe it was the crows or the squirrel trying to open a nut or something and hitting it off the wall of the house,” Keith suggested, nonchalantly.

Lance considered that for a moment and decided it was a possibility. “Fine,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Debunk my next theory before I even get to voice it, why don’t you.”

“Which was?”

“A ghost.”

Keith snorted. “This place isn’t old enough for ghosts,” he pointed out, letting Lance into the house first.

Shooting him a smile of gratitude, Lance shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, sure, you think that. But what about all the trees you cut down, huh? Maybe it’s them come back to grow through the house and destroy all those who dare ruin their forest!” He ended his dramatic declaration with a fist in the air, face grim.

Shaking his head, Keith said, “You’re ridiculous.” However, he couldn’t hide the slight smile on his face, no matter how far he turned his head away from Lance.

Emboldened by this comfortable exchange, Lance openly looked Keith up and down. “And _you_ ,” he said, pointing at him, “are going to catch a cold if you don’t get dressed. Shoo!” Lance flapped his hands at Keith, ushering him up the stairs. Keith, however, didn’t seem to want to leave, twisting his body to keep Lance in front of him. “Go on!” Lance ordered him. “Then come back down so I can beat your ass at Mario Kart!”

“Hmm…” Keith seemed to contemplate this, eyes trained on the ceiling. “Only if I can be Mario.”

Snorting with amusement once again, Lance shrugged. “Sure, whatever. I’m Rosalina, anyway.” And he spun on his heel to stalk off towards the living room.

Behind him, Keith called after him. “Rosalina? Really?!” Lance only laughed loudly in response.

* * *

Almost unbelievably, Keith actually came back down to the living room to play the game with him. Lance was delighted but, for some reason, Keith seemed to have distanced himself from Lance once again. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. Trying to compensate - perhaps overly so - Lance chattered away about his siblings and hyped up the game, cheering when he won races and groaning dramatically when he lost abysmally. After a while, Keith did loosen up, albeit slightly, making cutting remarks and retorts.

All in all, it had been a productive day. As the sun set, bathing the room in a golden light, Lance decided it was best to discuss something serious. “Hey, Keith. What we gonna do for dinner?”

“Hm?” said Keith as he guided Mario out of the way of a Thwomp.

“Dinner. What should we do? There’s not much here. Unless you’ve got hidden stores of food.” Lance clicked his tongue as Rosalina was hit by lightning.

“Why are we even talking about this right now?”

“Well, the sun’s setting,” Lance explained. “It won’t be long till we get hungry. Actually, I’m feeling a little peckish just now - it wasn’t exactly a big lunch…”

Mario crossed the finishing line just as Keith looked up in surprise, staring at the window. “Wait, what?” he murmured.

“You didn’t notice?” Lance asked, chuckling.

“No… I didn’t,” Keith said, slowly.

His tone of voice made Lance look up. Keith was frowning at the window, clearly lost in thought. Lance watched him for a while. Finally, he asked him, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Keith set his controller onto the arm of the couch. “But I’m going to the toilet.”

“Uh. Okay…?”

Lance watched him go. He looked at the TV where the next race in their tournament was starting. Opting to wait, Lance paused it and leaned back against the couch, rubbing at his eyes. Creaking started as Keith started up the stairs. Then Lance listened to him entering a room. There was a period of time when Lance didn’t hear anything before the door opened and closed again. Keith’s footsteps sounded on the stairs and Lance straightened, grabbing his abandoned controller. After waiting for quite some time, Lance frowned. Where had Keith gotten to? Had he gone into the kitchen to make dinner?

Scrunching up his face, Lance leapt to his feet. He made sure to smooth his expression into a cheerful one as he made his way into the hallway. Just as he came around the steps, he caught sight of Keith at the front door, now wearing a black hoodie under a cropped, red jacket. Lance stared for a moment, his smile slipping as he watched him step up to the door, hand reaching out for the handle.

“Keith?” said Lance. He watched the other man still, hand loosely curled around the handle. “What are you doing?”

Taking a deep breath, Keith pulled his hand away from the door to flip the hood up, covering his messy locks. “It’s nothing. Go back to the game, Lance.”

“I can’t,” said Lance helplessly, unsure of what he should do in this situation. “We’ve got another race in that tournament-”

“Just… I can’t, Lance. I have to go.”

Frowning, Lance moved forward, rapidly closing the distance between them. “What’re you talking about? Where the hell are you going at this time of night?! We’re in the middle of the forest; there’s no way there’s someone you need to meet with and you don’t seem to have a job, so-”

“Stop it,” Keith snapped, turning just enough to look at him. “Stop trying to-to… find things out, okay?! You shouldn’t know about me and Shiro and this is another one of those things! Leave it alone, Lance. Go back to your _game_.”

The way he said it made Lance feel utterly useless and like he was being looked down on. His chest seemed to constrict and he had to grit his teeth in order to stop the tears. “What the _fuck_ , Keith?”

Deflating a little, Keith turned back to the door. “Just stay in the house, Lance.”

Anger building, Lance glowered at the back of his head. “You’re such a dick, _Wolfy_ . I’m at least _trying_ and you throw this shit at me?! Fuck _you_.”

“I’m…” Keith trailed off with a heavy breath. “This is important, okay? You can’t be out here. Stay inside, where it’s safe.” He turned his head slightly to look at Lance with a frown. It may have been a concerned one but, to Lance, he didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic.

Another heaviness settled upon Lance, but he shrugged it off, focussing on the irritation still bubbling within him. “Fine. Whatever. Do what you want. Have _fun_ running around in the dark.” Brow furrowed, Lance let his lip curl with disgust as he eyed Keith one last time. “Try not to kidnap another innocent person, ‘kay?”

He didn’t bother watching Keith leave, turning to stomp back to the living room without a backwards glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These guys take a tiny step forward and then several large ones back. 
> 
> Also, I have realised... I accidentally made the story a little boring at the moment... ^^" I think there should be a couple more chapters before it gets a little more exciting...


	6. Take Them to Your Grandmother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know nothing about skincare, which crops up in this chapter... I have a mild dermatitis so I avoid putting anything I've never used before on my skin. So... it's probably inaccurate. But I kept it vague so... hopefully that works.

Lance must have been exhausted for he managed to sleep through dawn of the next day with no dreams to interrupt. Then again, he _had_ been fuming as he lay in bed the night before, remembering the way Keith had abandoned him without telling him anything. His dismissiveness pissed Lance off and he’d spent a good hour or two lying in the dark and trying to come up with what he would say when Keith reappeared.

In the dawning day, Lance sat up and tried not to sigh in relief. He failed. The nightmares had made him feel trapped and vulnerable the past few mornings. Lance rubbed at his eyes and frowned: he _had_ been trapped and vulnerable. Because of Keith. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, staring down at them sitting on his lap. What was he supposed to do now? Yesterday, Lance had thought Keith had been opening up. But he’d shut down again just as quickly and now Lance wasn’t sure if he should bother trying again.

Hoping that Shiro would turn up today, Lance slipped out from under the covers and got dressed in the last full outfit that he could find. He was going to have to put the washing machine on, he realised, since his host didn’t seem inclined to help him in any way. Scowling at nothing, he decided to forego a shower and pulled on the clothes, ever thankful for the belt he was still having to use.

Once ready, he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. There, he began to open cupboards and the fridge, as if he could conjure better foodstores if he searched hard enough. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any bread left, nor were there enough eggs for anything substantial. Lance wished he could just grab some cereal but there was no milk either and he wasn’t some sort of heathen who ate it dry. Besides, the cereal he did manage to miraculously find was plain cornflakes of some sort of cheap brand.

He gave up and got a glass of water instead, deciding to wait until lunchtime. As he gazed out of the window at the lengthening shadows, Lance began to grow a little worried. Had Keith even come home last night? Lance certainly hadn’t heard him come in and he wasn’t trudging through the door now that the sun was up. Should he be concerned? Not that he _should_ be after the way Keith had acted when he left. Frowning, Lance considered all of the things that meant that Keith _couldn’t_ come home. A fall down a slope that broke an ankle. Something attacking him. Some _one_ attacking him. What if there happened to be another hunter around?

And what should Lance do about it?

A creaking noise from upstairs startled him so badly that he jerked the glass and splashed water over the only clean shirt he had left. He stared down at the spreading wet patch in shock for a moment. Then the feel of it clinging to his skin made him grimace. Sighing, he set the glass down and pulled the shirt off, wringing it out over the sink.

As he did that, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. What had made that noise? Was it just the house settling? Or was someone upstairs? Was it Keith? There was only one way to find out, Lance decided, once he’d wrung out the shirt as much as he could. He pulled the shirt back on, gulped down a few mouthfuls of water and headed out of the kitchen to investigate.

Upstairs, he peeked into every room he had already been in. There was no-one in them. It left only one place where anyone could be and Lance made his way to it. At the door, however, he hesitated. Keith had been angry when he’d been snooping in the attic - would he be pissed if Lance entered his bedroom without permission? Especially since Keith always said to keep out of it.

Cautious, Lance raised his hand to knock. He stopped himself just before his knuckles collided with the door. As quick as he could, he retracted his hand so he wouldn’t twitch and make a noise, anyway. After all, if Keith had been gone most of the night, he might be tired and therefore cranky when Lance interrupted his beauty sleep. Lance stared at the door, wondering if he should just leave and presume Keith was sleeping in there. But curiosity got the best of him and, as quickly and quietly as he could, Lance grabbed the handle. Before he could chicken out, he turned the handle and pushed the door open, ducking just his head in.

For some reason, Lance had been half-expecting rich, velvet drapes and the colour red everywhere, candles flickering. Then again, he was probably getting vampire and werewolf stereotypes mixed up. Thankfully, Keith’s room wasn’t filled with things meant to seduce unwitting victims to their deaths. Instead, heavy curtains blocked out the sunlight. As it was, Lance had to squint into the dim room. The walls and carpet were dark. Posters were pinned wherever there was space. There was what appeared to be a calendar, hung beside the window. A desk was shoved up into the corner; there were a pile of papers and books and what looked like more posters. Boxes and indecipherable objects were cluttered around a large bed; it looked to Lance as though he’d shoved a house’s worth of knick-knacks into one room.

On the bed was a lump. Lance squinted at it and was sure he could see hair sticking out from under the blankets. Perhaps it had been made to look like someone sleeping there, like in those prison break movies. However, it made no sense to Lance why Keith would openly leave after setting this up. He frowned at it, wondering whether he should tip-toe in to check. Then the bundle moved, a sigh escaping from it, and Lance nearly slammed the door closed in his surprise. Still, he jerked, the door creaking a little as his arm moved. Grimacing, Lance quietly pulled the door closed, resisting the urge to stop and listen to the mumbling coming from the blanket cocoon. Once there was a barrier between Lance and the room, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Apparently, Keith was in bed.

* * *

By the time it hit noon, Lance’s stomach was rumbling. For the moment, he was ignoring it by killing zombies and taking photos in a game he’d found underneath one of Call of Duty games. It required concentration and a certain suspension of disbelief so Lance was quite successful at forgetting about his hunger. He wasn’t sure he wanted to eat anything that was still in the house, anyway.

Just as he got to a part in the game which required sneaking, there came a knock at the door. Again. This time, it was two firm knocks, loud enough to echo throughout the house and perhaps wake the dead. Or, at the very least, a passed out werewolf. Lance stilled for a moment before he paused the game and leapt to his feet. Was this going to turn out to be like the day before?

Hurrying along the hall, Lance heard footsteps from above and, by the time he reached the foot of the stairs, Keith was nearly at the bottom. Both of them stopped for a moment, watching each other: Keith was wearing a crumpled t-shirt and sweatpants, clearly having just emerged from his bed. Was Keith going to say anything about the night before? Should Lance say something? Lance was the one to look away first, his lips pursed as he remembered how annoyed Keith had made him the night before.

The knocks came again and they both looked at the source. Keith turned to him then. “It’s nothing suspicious,” he told Lance. Somehow, his tone made it sound condescending. Lance narrowed his eyes at him.

“Oh, really?” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “Is this another small animal hitting a nut off the door?”

“No,” said Keith, rolling his eyes. He shook his head, sighed in exasperation and added, “It’s Shiro.”

Lance raised a questioning eyebrow. “And you know this because…?”

“When he’s not on duty, he only knocks twice,” Keith explained. “Three times if he’s on official duty.”

“Seriously?” Lance’s mouth twitched in amusement. “He’s got a specific knock for being a cop?”

“He’s sort of weird like that,” Keith said. The corner of his mouth lifted as Keith struggled to keep a straight face.

Snorting, Lance turned towards the door. “Says the dude living in the middle of a forest.” He made his way to the door to open it - but found that it didn’t budge. Either it was stuck or it was locked… “Did you _lock_ this?”

“Ah, yeah,” said Keith. He turned and stepped into the kitchen, grabbing the key from the counter, the keyrings jangling as he moved. Lance frowned as he passed him.

“ _Why_ did you lock it when we’re in the _middle of nowhere_?”

Keith didn’t respond. Instead, he unlocked the door and pulled it open to reveal a laden Shiro. Both his hands were occupied with multiple plastic bags, things poking from the top. Lance was able to spot the tops of carrots and what seemed to be bars of chocolate. As he stepped into the house with a greeting on his lips, Lance heard a dragging sound and spotted the huge suitcase he was rolling inside. Not only that but, over the top of his fitted, black, winter coat, Shiro had the arms of a backpack slung over his shoulders and, when he turned to encourage Keith to hurry inside, Lance could see that the bag was stuffed full, bulging from whatever was inside.

“What’s with all the bags?” Keith asked, frowning at him. “You don’t normally bring so much.”

Shiro gave Keith a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated. “You have a guest, Keith,” he said. I had to bring extra so you don’t run out quicker.”

“Thank God,” said Lance, relieved. “We’ve pretty much run out.”

“Just in the nick of time, huh?” said Shiro, nodding. “That happens a lot.”

“I cope just fine,” Keith muttered as they headed further into the house.

Taking the lead, Shiro made his way to the kitchen, pausing only to leave the suitcase in the hall. Once he’d extricated the bags from where they had tangled around the handle, he carried them to the island and set them down. Lance immediately moved over to them, peering inside. He spotted several packets of fruit and vegetables and he felt a thrill run through him at the thought of making a large meal. His stomach rumbled and he grimaced, glancing at Shiro who was in the process of swinging the backpack off.

The older man chuckled. “Yeah, it _is_ about time for lunch,” he conceded. “We can make something now, if you like – all the chilled and frozen things are in a cool box so they’ll keep so we put everything away afterwards.” Shiro patted the backpack by way of explanation.

“A man after my own heart,” Lance said, sighing happily. "Are there any bagels? I'm kinda craving them. With cream cheese."

"Of course. There's some in the bag with all the bread. I'll get out the cheese for you."

Shiro began to unfasten and unbuckle the top of the backpack so Lance turned his attention to the other bags. Searching through them, he found pasta, noodles, rice, various junk food, bags of popcorn, yoghurts and health shakes, flour, baking soda, a whole rack of spices and, finally, the bread. There was a lot of it, more than both of them could eat within a month, let alone the two or so weeks before it would likely start to go mouldy. Lance grimaced.

“Why is there so much of this?” Lance demanded, holding up a baguette.

“So I can freeze it,” said Keith, sounding annoyed. Lance looked at him and blinked when he noticed how Keith was hovering at the door. “If you freeze the bread, it lasts longer.”

Lance couldn’t help but grimace. “That sounds horrible.”

“Tough,” Keith replied, eyes narrowing.

“Dude, seriously,” said Lance, rolling his eyes. “What is your _problem_?”

“Whatever,” Keith muttered. “Shiro, I’m going for a shower. You gonna be okay?”

Shrugging a shoulder, Shiro looked at Keith in clear bemusement. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Keith shrugged in reply. Then he turned on his heel and left, stomping up the stairs. Both Lance and Shiro listened to him go before turning back to the kitchen island and looking at each other. There was a short silence.

“Uh, well…” Shiro cleared his throat. “He’s always a little irritated when he’s just woken up.”

“Oh?” said Lance, injecting as much sarcasm into his voice as he could. “Really? He must be sleeping rather a lot, then.”

Grimacing, Shiro held out the tub of cream cheese. “It’s just… difficult for him.”

“‘Difficult’?” Lance echoed. “Oh, I’m _sure_.”

“Have you really not gotten along at all?” Shiro asked, sounding kind of desperate.

“We played Mario Kart yesterday,” Lance admitted. “But then he was kind of a dick, so.” He paused then, wondering if he should tell Shiro about Keith’s mysterious disappearance into the night. Was it a werewolf thing? Or a Keith thing? Did he go out to be alone? Because Lance would have been more than willing to let him be, if he’d just asked. He almost shook his head to stop the cycle of thoughts running through it; he’d done more than enough of that last night.

Sighing, Shiro began to pull things out of bags. “I know he can be… awkward… at times, but please give him a chance.”

“I don’t know why you want me to get along with him so badly,” Lance commented as he plucked the bagels out from amongst the bread. “I mean, I’m only gonna be here till you catch J- _him_ out, right?” He paused and looked up at Shiro. “How’s that going, by the way?”

Now that Lance looked, Shiro seemed tired, pulling a face as he slowed his movements. “It’s going to take a little more time…” he said, eventually. “Jason is really good at evading us – has been for a while, obviously. And he’s being cooperative to throw us off the scent.”

Standing by the toaster, Lance stilled, looking up at Shiro in growing horror. “He’s just… living his life? He… doesn’t care…?”

“I’m really sorry, Lance. I know this is hard for you but just hang in there – we’ll catch him soon.”

“How?” asked Lance, turning his attention to the food. Memories of that night flashed through Lance’s mind. He knew he’d been deeply affected by it – but Jason wasn’t? Was he only acting or was he really that cold? Lance shuddered and pulled open a drawer, searching for a knife.

“The Sheriff and my fellow Deputy are still following other lines of inquiry,” Shiro told him, gently. “They’ll soon prove that Jason is the only person who could have had a hand in your disappearance. In the meantime, I’m keeping tabs on him.”

Lance looked up in surprise. Faced with Shiro’s determined expression, he turned back to his bagels. “Do they know you’re doing that?” he asked.

“No. I’m having to be careful. The Sheriff’s not interested in what I say I’m doing but my colleague…”

Seeing Shiro grimace, Lance nodded in understanding. “You must be good at lying. I mean, I’ve got this friend and she realised I was going out with someone when I was trying not to tell anyone about it, like he said. She managed to get me talking. Probably a good thing, now that I know what he’s like…” He trailed off, ducking his head a little more to hide his distress. Shiro didn’t need to be bothered with him and his whirling emotions.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it up,” Shiro told him honestly. “He’s smart; he’ll figure out that I’m keeping something from him. Something else…” Shiro trailed off with a sigh and Lance glanced over at him. The man looked pained and Lance felt a pang of sympathy. Whatever he was going through, it was partially Lance’s fault. After all, if he’d never been in the woods, Shiro would never have had to lie about his abduction.

“Anyway!” said Lance loudly, hoping to distract Shiro from whatever mental spiral he had descended into. “Are you wanting any bagels, too? Toasted or untoasted? Cream cheese?”

That made Shiro snort with amusement and look up, smile dancing on his face. “I brought all this for you and Keith, not _me_.”

“So? What you’re saying is that I’m allowed to do what I like with this food – and I’d _like_ to offer you some of it.” Lance paused in his work to wave the knife in his direction. “Besides, I’ll make sure we don’t run out of any of this.”

Shiro nodded at him. “Thank you. That’ll help a lot. Keith usually refuses this much food. I managed to convince him that he needed far more than normal with you being here, though.”

“What? How much does he usually get?”

“About three of these.” Shiro plucked at a plastic bag and Lance’s eyes widened.

“What?! How does he survive on that for two weeks at a time?!”

For some reason, Shiro shifted nervously. “He… uses the forest, I suppose.”

Lance frowned at that. “You mean… he hunts? And, what is it, forages?”

“Yeah…”

Turning back to the bagels, Lance put the first batch in the toaster. “As if he couldn’t get any creepier…” he muttered to himself. Once he’d started warming the bagels, Lance cleared his throat and turned back to Shiro. “Isn’t that dangerous? Hunting out here on his own. And, like, I haven’t seen a gun or anything, what does he-?” Lance stopped and his eyes widened, staring at a sheepish Shiro. “Wait… Does he use that sword?!”

“Apparently. I’ve tried to tell him not to…” Shiro explained.

“Isn’t that, like, poaching or something? Is he even allowed to?!”

“Technically… Well…” Shiro paused to take a deep breath before he continued. “He’s only supposed to hunt during certain times of the year. When it’s in season, he kills… well, a lot. Then he cures it and keeps it. But it’s out of season and it seems as though he used up a lot of the meat he kept a few nights ago.”

“Huh?”

“Well, he said he was trying to keep himself in the house the night before you tried to leave. So he piled all the meat in front of the front door. As far as he could tell, he’d eaten it all before trying to get to you- Not that you were in any danger!” Shiro exclaimed hurriedly, waving his hands as if to shoo his words away.

"Ah," said Lance, feeling a little downhearted. He had thought that he'd kept Keith in the house with his conversation. Somehow, the thought that there was another reason was a little disappointing. "I didn't realise..."

"Don't worry about it," said Shiro, firmly. "He doesn't hold that against you."

Lance snorted. "Sure he doesn't."

"Lance..." said Shiro, an admonishment in his tone.

"He doesn't wanna talk to me at all. It's..." Lance growled, unable to put his frustration and sadness and disappointment and everything else into words.

Pursing his lips, probably in an attempt to hide his smile, Shiro nodded. "Yeah. Keith tends to have that effect on people."

"I wish I was staying with you," Lance grumbled, turning to the bagels which had long since popped up out of the toaster. He dropped them onto a plate and began to set up the next ones. "Speaking of which, are you having bagels or not?"

* * *

They ended up making a meal out of the bagels, cream cheese, some salmon and sliced ham. As they worked, they turned the conversation to what Lance would be able to make with the food that Shiro continued to pull out of bags. There was so much of it that Lance was honestly impressed by his strength: how on Earth had he managed to carry all those tins and bottles on his back with everything else he’d brought? Their conversation was easy enough, though Lance still found it a little intimidating to be talking to the ‘hottest cop in town’.

It made him wonder why Shiro was friends with Keith, the lone werewolf.

Keith himself had put in an appearance after they’d made their food. Shiro insisted he eat at least one of the bagels. Lance tried not to pull a face at that. But Keith grunted his thanks and took one, nibbling it in a dainty manner. That made Lance stare, surprised.

While Keith ate, Lance and Shiro put away the food. Lance made a sortie to the living room to find the notebook and came back to take notes on exactly what they had so he could work out what meals he could make or suggest Keith make. They worked quickly and efficiently and, by the time Keith had finished, they were mostly done. Keith watched them work and Lance ignored him as much as he could, though he glared at him whenever they caught each other's gaze.

"Oh," said Lance when they were pulling out the bread. "What's in the suitcase? More food?"

Shiro smiled at him. "No. Go take a look."

Intrigued, Lance did as he was told, brushing past Keith as he went. Once in the hall, he set the suitcase on its side and unzipped it, trying not to topple over from his crouch. Pulling the suitcase apart, Lance stared down at the densely (and neatly) packed clothes. Carefully, he pulled a top from it, holding it up. He was pleased to see that it looked his size and that it was a dark blue, soft and with long sleeves. It looked perfect for the fall weather.

Straightening, Lance turned back to Shiro. "This is great! Thank you so much!"

“You’re quite welcome,” said Shiro, his smile widening. “And, if you dig deep enough, you’ll find the other things you asked for.”

“Really?!” Lance exclaimed. He hastened back to the suitcase and shifted clothes aside, making a mess of Shiro’s packing. Finally, he caught sight of what Shiro had meant and pulled it from the case. He grinned down at the various masks and creams and gels and shampoos he’d asked for. Leaping to his feet, he rushed back, clutching them all to his chest. “You managed to get all of them?! Thank you!” Lance paused for a moment, remembering that he’d put some rather expensive things on the list. “It must have cost a _lot_ …” he said, his excitement draining from him. “I-”

“Don’t worry about it, honestly.” Shiro waved a hand at him. “I had more than enough. I… don’t really buy all that much.”

“What, really? But, I mean, are you sure about spending it on _me_?” Lance asked.

“You need it more than me,” Shiro replied, chuckling a little.

Lance grinned. “Too right, I do. Keith can live like a caveman if he wants but I _need_ this stuff!” Keith glared at him and Lance stuck out his tongue. “Seriously, though, Shiro, this is the best! Thank you so much.”

Cheeks red, Shiro shook his head, still laughing. “It was nothing, really.”

“And modest, too!” Lance loudly declared. He clutched the masks and bottles to his chest with one hand, right over his heart, and raised his other to fan himself. “You’re, like, the perfect man. Why, I might even fall for you-”

“If you’re that excited for that stuff,” Keith interrupted, voice almost a growl, “maybe you should go use them instead of annoying us.”

Shiro’s smile fell. “Keith,” he said, the word a warning and a plea at the same time.

Frowning at him, Lance stared at Keith. The man himself wasn’t looking at Lance, looking down at the counter instead. His lips were pursed and, if Lance didn’t know any better, he would say that Keith was sulking. Lance narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” he snapped. “Whatever. I don’t want to grace _you_ with my _radiant_ presence, anyway.” He looked up at a pained Shiro. “Sorry, Shiro, but I do kinda wanna have a bath with all the proper stuff. You don’t mind, right?”

“Of course not,” Shiro told him, smiling once again. “Go enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you!” Lance said once again and, with that, turned on his heel and left, not bothering to look in Keith’s direction.

* * *

He took his time in the bathroom, using a blue bath bomb from a set of five that Shiro had brought. Since there were so many products, Lance spread them around the bath and sink, taking care to lay out the ones immediately needed. Then he stripped and got in the bath, making sure to scrub at his face before he put on a mask; he felt like he needed it after days without them. With all his preparations done, Lance relaxed, feeling the heat seep through him

His mind wandered, though he forcibly tried to stop himself of thinking of Jason. It was difficult: the last time he’d been in a bath, Jason had wandered through from the other room. Lance had been happy to see him, letting him come close enough for Jason to reach into the water and- Gripping the sides of the bath, Lance took in a gasping breath. Letting it out, he shoved the memory aside, trying not to think of how Jason had even then been plotting to do something horrible to him.

Instead, he forced himself to think of Shiro and how he could possibly thank the man. There really wasn’t much he could do. All he knew about Shiro was that he was a cop and a werewolf. Maybe he could just give him chocolates? Did he even like chocolate? Who didn’t like chocolate, though?!

Probably Keith, he realised.

Trying not to frown, Lance sighed instead. Keith really was his best bet on finding out what to get Shiro as a thank you when Lance could go home - but Keith was being far too standoffish for Lance to be able to approach him about it. Besides, would Keith even want to help him? He’d clearly been sulking when Lance had been in the kitchen earlier. Perhaps that was because he was annoyed that Lance was taking up all his time with Shiro.

Dwelling on that made Lance remember the night before and the questions he had. Where _had_ Keith gone? Did Shiro know about it? Could Shiro tell him and would he willingly do so if Lance asked? How did they end up as werewolves, anyway? Was it technically legal for Keith to build a house here and how had he done it without anyone noticing? And how had he gotten Internet and electricity out here? Lance hadn’t seen a generator yet so how could they get cables and things through the forest without anyone noticing? Also, why was Keith apparently obsessed with Mothman?

Clicking his tongue, Lance smoothed out his expression as much as possible once he realised he was frowning again. Dammit, he was supposed to be relaxing! So, again, he shoved those thoughts aside and tried to think happy thoughts. It was almost impossible, since those questions were all he could think about. But the heat eased his tension and he found himself dozing. Before he could fall asleep, he washed off his face and climbed out, letting the water run down the drain.

Next up, was the moisturising and taking care of his hair. Some of that he did at the sink once he’d dried himself off, ruffling his hair and leaving it sticking up. To keep his hair out of the way, he put a hairband on to hold it back as he went through his routine, making sure none of his body was left out in his meticulous process. As he worked, he thought on what he had in the bath. Asking Shiro seemed like the best option to answer the question of the night before and Lance, as he carefully rubbed at his face, decided that he’d do it as soon as he returned downstairs.

Once he was finished in the bathroom, he looped the towel around his waist and poked his head out the door. Seeing no-one, he hurried down the hall to the room that he’d left the suitcase: he still couldn’t think of it as his own. He slipped inside and went to where he’d laid out his clothes. Making sure he was completely dry, Lance pulled on the top he’d picked up earlier, some underwear that actually fit him and a pair of skinny jeans that hugged his body in all the right places. Grinning, he then hefted the new hairdryer that he’d found in the case and, with his brand new brush, used the small mirror in order to fix his hair in just the right way.

By the end of his work, he had slight curls in his hair, his skin was smooth and he was wearing something which actually felt good as well as fitted him. For the first time in several days, he felt more like himself. In fact, he felt ready to go out on the town and find someone miles better than- Well. He couldn’t do that, anyway. But he was definitely ready to get some of his questions answered and he strode from the room.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Keith appeared in the kitchen door. They looked at each other for a few seconds. Lance raised an eyebrow, waiting for Keith to move or say something. He waited a little longer, wondering why Keith’s eyes seemed to be widening. Had he been that surprised? Then again, it was a bit of a delayed reaction - where were his wolfy instincts?

Keith suddenly turned and headed for the basement, throwing the door open to hurry down the steps beyond. Lance watched him go, blinking in surprise. What had that all been about? Taking a deep breath, Lance suddenly realised that he could smell onions and meat. Enticed, Lance wandered into the kitchen to find Shiro at the counter, surrounded by various ingredients.

“Shiro?” said Lance as he approached.

He looked up at Lance’s voice and raised his eyebrows. “You’re finished? You look… better.”

“‘Better’?” Lance echoed with a snort. “What’s that mean?”

“Just… You look like you’re more comfortable in your own skin.”

The comment hit Lance like a powerful blow. His skin seemed to itch and he had to shift his weight to keep Shiro from seeing. Comfortable? For some reason, the comment made him think of Jason and that night and the fact that this skin had been touched by _him_. A sudden, strange urge to go for a shower and scrub his skin raw overcame him but he fought it, grinning as confidently as he could.

“Haha, yeah, I finally look like myself, I guess,” he said, his heart hammering.

“Good,” said Shiro, turning back to his knife and a row of shallots. “You deserve a bit of pampering after everything you’ve been through.”

“‘Pampering’? I wouldn’t call it that - not till Keith brings me, like, breakfast in bed and fans me with a palm leaf.”

Chuckling, Shiro scooped the chopped shallots into a bowl. “He’d need a good reason for it. Keith isn’t the kind of person to do things for no reason.”

“He can do it as an apology,” Lance replied with a haughty sniff. It made him cough as inhaled a strong scent of the onions. Eyes watering, Lance peeked around Shiro. “What’re you doing, anyway?”

“You took quite some time and Keith didn’t eat much earlier, so I thought I’d make a start on dinner. Homemade burgers sound good?” Shiro pulled a tomato towards him, sending Lance a grin.

“Hell yeah!” Lance said, punching a celebratory fist into the air and narrowly avoiding smacking his knuckles off the counter. “Want any help?”

“No, no,” said Shiro, waving the knife in dismissal. “If Keith’s not going to pamper you, then you should go relax. Maybe he’ll be willing to watch a movie with you.”

“And you, right?” Lance asked. Shiro shook his head and Lance frowned. “You’re making this and you’re not staying to eat with us?”

“I’m meeting a friend in a couple of hours,” Shiro informed him. “But Keith’s stubborn sometimes-”

“All the time, you mean.”

“-and I want him to eat _something_ substantial today.”

“Ah.” Lance watched him for a while, wondering if he should help or not. His thoughts wandered as Shiro expertly used the knife. Then he blurted out a question: “You said that Keith only does things he’s got a reason to, right?”

“Yeah.” Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“Well… Last night. He went out last night,” Lance explained. He saw Shiro pause in what he was doing.  “And I didn’t hear him come back in,” he continued, watching Shiro closely. “Then he slept through the morning. Do you know why?”

Shiro had stilled completely by that point. He put down the knife and turned to Lance, expression grim. “I don’t know,” he said. Lance wasn’t convinced that was true but there was enough conviction in his voice that made Lance think it was possibly a half-truth. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll talk to him about it so he doesn’t do something so dangerous again.”

“But why was he out there in the first place?” Lance demanded. “What could he possibly be doing that he was out all night? Don’t you have any ideas?”

Turning back to the counter, Shiro shook his head. “He probably felt as if he needed space.”

“But that makes no sense!” Lance exclaimed. “We were getting along fine just before he left. Then he…” Trailing off, Lance made an annoyed sound, unable to convey how frustrated he was with the whole thing.

Sheepish, Shiro shrugged a shoulder. “He takes a while to warm up to people. Just be patient and he’ll get there.” He picked up the knife and pointed it towards the door. “Now, go relax. I’ll bring you the burgers when they’re ready.”

* * *

Later, Lance, who had been dozing in front of a documentary about bears, was woken by movement in the room. Surprised, he jolted awake and looked around, spotting Keith standing at the other end of the couch. He held two plates in his hands, each with a couple of buns and, from the smell of it, freshly made burgers. Delighted at the prospect of food, Lance pushed himself upright, willing to overlook Keith’s presence for the moment.

“Sweet!” Lance exclaimed, taking the plate offered to him. He looked down at the perfect bun with its salad and sauces and the thick piece of meat between the bread. “Woah, Shiro’s amazing! A cop _and_ a cook? Man, it’s a mystery how he’s still single.” Lance paused then and frowned slightly, looking up at Keith who was hovering beside him. “He _is_ still single, right?”

“Yeah…” said Keith, slowly. For some reason, he was frowning at Lance. Perhaps he thought Lance was being nosy again.

Grimacing, Lance turned away, setting his plate on the coffee table. “Is he still here? Just wanna thank him for this? Beats doing it ourselves, right?”

“He just left,” said Keith. “Said he had to get going.”

“Huh. Didn’t expect him to be the love ’em and leave ’em type.” Lance mulled over that as he carefully picked up his burger. “You sure he’s single?”

“Very sure,” Keith answered, sounding rather put-upon.

“Oh? Is there juicy details-?” Lance stopped his teasing when he noticed that Keith was still standing. “ _Dude_. You gonna sit down or what?”

“Uh. Is that okay?” asked Keith, swaying with his indecision.

“This is _your_ house, Keith,” Lance said, amused. “Do whatever you want.”

“Right.” He shuffled around and then sat.

Snorting, Lance shook his head and bit into the burger. The taste flooded through his mouth, the perfect contrast of juicy meat and soft bread. Unabashed, Lance moaned, closing his eyes to savour it as he chewed. Once he’d swallowed, Lance frowned at it before looking up at a surprised Keith. “What the heck! How is he so good at cooking?!”

“I… I guess, ’cause he… He lives alone and he kinda has to cook for me, too.” Keith stared down at his own plate atop his lap.

“Well, he’s a catch, that’s all I’m saying,” Lance told Keith. He took another bite.

It was as Lance was about halfway done with his first burger and Keith had nibbled at about a fifth of his when Keith spoke again. “A-Are you trying to flirt with Shiro?”

Lance almost choked on his mouthful. “What the _fuck_ , dude?!” he exclaimed, coughing a little. “What are you talking about?”

“The way you were acting earlier,” Keith explained. “You were- You were… gushing.”

“‘Gushing’? I- What?”

“Just there!” exclaimed Keith, almost knocking his plate over. Growling in annoyance, he dropped it onto the table with a loud clang. “About his food. And earlier, when you saw he’d kept his promise, as if you thought he wouldn’t!” Keith scoffed.

“Woah, okay, wait!” Lance cried, raising his hands. A drop of sauce landed on his new jeans and he grimaced, setting the burger he’d forgotten about onto his plate. “Look, I’m not trying to flirt with Shiro, okay? I’m just glad there’s someone to actually talk to around here.”

“There’s-” Keith began but pressed his lips shut before he could continue.

“You?” Lance finished for him. “Since when?!”

They fell silent then and, when Keith didn’t reply, Lance grabbed his burger and took a huge bite from it, fuming. He had _tried_ . But Keith hadn’t wanted to know and _now_ he was, what, jealous? That pissed Lance off. As their silence stretched, however, Lance’s common sense filtered through his anger. Keith lived out here alone. Shiro was the only one to visit him. Now, with Lance here, Shiro had shifted his attention away from Keith. Maybe he shouldn’t get so irritated, Lance conceded, though it was very hard not to when Keith was being an ass.

“Are you sure,” said Keith suddenly, still picking at his burger, “you don’t want to… I dunno… date him? I mean, lots of people do. Like you said, he’s the ‘perfect man’, right?”

Lance sighed, suddenly feeling drained. “Look, Keith. I appreciate that you have very little experience with relationships and all, but… I just got out of an- a horrible relationship, okay? After all those lies, why would you think I’d want to date a _werewolf_?”

For a long moment, Keith stared at him. Then, just as Lance began to think he’d said something weird, Keith turned his head. “Oh. Okay,” he murmured.

Confused, Lance thought over what he had just said. Then he thought of their whole conversation. Was Keith… disappointed? But why? Because he didn’t want to date a werewolf, with their lies and violence every month? Was Keith disappointed that he didn’t want to date Shiro, maybe move out and get out of his way?

Or was he insulted by the way Lance had declared his current aversion to romance?

Eyes widening as the realisation washed over him, Lance turned on the couch to face Keith directly. The werewolf kept his head turned away. “Wait. No, Keith, wait. That wasn’t what I meant!”

“It’s fine,” said Keith, sighing. He stood. “I’m going to eat in my room. Just…” Keith shook his head and picked up his plate.

“No, c’mon, dude, I didn’t mean it like that!” Lance cried, pushing himself up onto his knees. “Look, it’s not about the werewolf-”

“Stop, Lance.” Keith paused, opened his mouth to say something and stopped himself. Then he pursed his lips. Lance blinked. Should he say something or just wait for Keith to spit it out? Before he could come to a decision, Keith shook his head again. “Never mind. Enjoy the food.” And, before Lance could stop him, Keith turned and strode from the room.

Staring after him, Lance raised an arm, as if he was reaching to stop him. When he realised what he was doing, he lowered it and let himself drop back onto the couch. Had he just ruined a chance to be on somewhat amicable terms with Keith? They hadn’t really been arguing just then and now…

“Fuck,” said Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were supposed to end the day on a good note. _They were supposed to end the day on a good note_. But Keith was all pouty and... this happened.
> 
> The game mentioned is a vague reference to [this thing](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dead_Rising).


	7. Another Wolf Spoke to Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently my phone doesn't like Google Docs over 70 pages so if there's some errors or double words that I haven't caught and deleted... sorry. ^^"

_Lance was walking through the wood, dark trees looming over him. It was peaceful. Birds chirped, though they sounded weird, almost distorted. The undergrowth rustled with animals scurrying around, though, every so often, the rustling seemed too big to be a small, harmless squirrel._

_That thought unnerved him._

_Something was suddenly behind him and Lance spun to face it, heart beating far too fast. Jason stood there, still in his wolf costume, grinning at Lance. Fear instantly spread through him, freezing him in place. He could do nothing as Jason approached._

_“My, my,” said the wolf-man. “Whatever have you got in your basket?”_

_Lance looked down, catching sight of the path he shouldn't leave. Hooked on his arm was a small basket with a cloth covering what was inside. Then he noticed that he was wearing something with red sleeves and he knew, instantly, that he was dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. Not only that, but he was wearing a dress which cut off at the top of his thighs and showed off a lot of his chest. He felt horribly exposed and he began to back away as Jason drew closer._

_“I, um, I don’t know…” Lance told Jason._

_“Really?” said Jason, softly, sweetly. “And here I thought I could ask you for payment for your passage.” Jason stopped then and tilted his head, thinking about it. “Ah. I know. How about you pay… with your body.”_

_His last words were said from behind Lance and, suddenly, there were hands all over him. They flipped his skirt up, dipped fingers down the bust of the dress, wrapped fingers around his throat, touched his cock with soft fingertips, grasped it with firmer ones, poked at his unprepared hole… Lance reacted instinctively: crying out, he twisted, bringing up his basket to whack Jason, even though the darkness seeping through the trees concealed him._

_As soon as he turned, the touches stopped and Lance found that he was holding something. Looking down, he found a handgun of indeterminate make, the butt of it resting on his open left palm, prepared for anything._

_He wasn’t prepared for the darkness to ripple and shift, revealing a huge wolf._ Keith, _Lance thought. The wolf growled, the noise growing steadily louder. Lance stepped back, suddenly able to move. Keith - the wolf - followed. Behind him, Lance could see the full moon, bigger than normal and filling the sky._

_Shaking his head, Lance took another step back. “No,” he said. “Stop. Monster.”_

What? _he thought then._ What am I saying? That's not what-

 _Growl growing louder, the wolf lowered its head till their eyes met. Inside his head, Lance heard words that were_ definitely _not his own._ What did you call me?

_Unable to stop himself, Lance heard himself say, “You’re a monster! You’ve killed people. You’re worse than Jason. Die!” And, willing his body to drop the gun, he pulled the trigger._

_Either he’d missed or the wolf had knocked the gun from his hands before he could fire. He wasn’t sure. All Lance knew was that he was suddenly running, tree branches whipping at every exposed part of his body. His legs were getting scratched the most but he couldn’t stop._

_A clearing up ahead. It held a house, safety. Perhaps a grandmother or a sullen young man. Lance picked up the pace._

_And he fell, brought to the ground by a heavy weight slamming into him. Winded, Lance gasped for breath. He tried to move, tried to wriggle out from under the obstruction, tried to hit it. But the wolf bore down on him and only let up in order to flip Lance over._

Your little silver bullet cannot harm me, _said a_ bigger _wolf. This one had a scar across his nose. Lance knew who he was, too._ Shiro.

_Before Lance could answer or do anything at all, the wolf opened its jaws. Lance thrashed more wildly, pleading with it, offering it all sorts of things. Anything it wanted, just… “Please let me live!” Lance cried._

_Instead of replying, the wolf opened its jaws. Lance gasped as he watched the wolf’s teeth get closer. Then all he could see was the dark fur, then nothing as the pain began. It was in his chest and spreading outwards. He would have screamed if he could have, but his breath had caught and he couldn’t move._

_Finally, the wolf moved back and Lance’s vision returned. In its mouth was a mass of flesh. As Lance focussed on it, he slowly realised what it was. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. There, clamped between the wolf’s teeth, was Lance’s heart._

_Before Lance could do anything else, the wolf chomped down, bursting it and sending white-hot pain through Lance. It made him scream and scream and scream and scream-_

-and he woke up screaming, thrashing under the blankets. When he paused for breath, Lance suddenly realised that he wasn’t in pain any longer. Gasping, he fought his way free until he didn’t feel pinned or trapped or… Panting, he struggled to sit up, sweat dripping from his hair. Shivers ran up and down his spine and he desperately wanted his mother’s hugs or Hunk’s or maybe Pidge’s or Jason’s-

Again, he gasped, horrified to realise that he was still thinking of Jason as someone to comfort him. The dream clung to him, the feeling of helplessness, even with a weapon. He could still feel all those hands, all those touches. Shuddering, he patted himself down, making sure his silky pyjamas were covering him completely. Lance felt like crying and was even considering giving in to the feeling when there was a knock on the bedroom door, startling him badly enough that he whacked his hand off the bedside table.

“Lance?” came Keith’s voice from the other side. “Are you okay? I thought I heard a scream…?”

Eyes wide, Lance glanced around the room, noting vaguely that it was morning, the sun peeking through the gaps in the curtains. Had he woken Keith? Either way, he didn't want to tell Keith about the nightmare. After all, he'd have to tell _Keith_ , of all people, about what had happened in that clearing. So Lance took a deep, shuddering breath, and called out to him. “It was just a nightmare. I’m fine.” He ignored the fact that his heart was still hammering.

There was a pause. Lance stared at the door, waiting for a response. Eventually, Keith said, “Okay. Are you decent?”

Staring harder at the door, Lance tried to figure out what that could mean. When Keith didn't seem to want to elaborate, Lance sighed from frustration. “What do you mean, ‘decent’? Why d’ya wanna know?”

“I want to come in.”

“What?! Why?” Lance exclaimed.

“Just answer the question so I come in,” Keith said, sighing heavily.

“No way! I just woke up, of course I’m not decent. I haven’t had a shower or brushed my hair or-or anything!”

“You’re wearing those blue-and-white pyjamas, right?”

Stilling, Lance looked down at the tie-dyed pyjamas which Lance had been overjoyed to pull out of the bottom of the case in his borrowed room, _after_ Keith had gone to bed. “How do you know what they look like?!”

“Shiro sent me a picture yesterday,” Keith explained. “Asking for my opinion- Look, it doesn’t matter. Just hurry up and let me in: my arms are starting to hurt.”

“Uh, why?” asked Lance, confused. Why would his arms be hurting?

“Just let me in!”

“Urgh, fine. Get your ass in here.” As he spoke, Lance settled back on the bed, legs stretched out, back to the headboard. He managed to grab the covers and pull them over him just as the door began to slowly open. Still uncomfortable, Lance shifted, still aware of his half-hard cock which, unfortunately, hadn’t gone away at Keith’s voice. Hopefully, Keith wouldn’t notice or Lance’s racing heart would slow and it would ease away itself. Or, better yet, he could hop into a cold shower.

The first thing to come through the door when Lance looked back up was an elbow. Lance blinked and watched Keith back into the room. He moved slowly, carefully, hunched over. Confused, Lance stared, wondering if he should say something. Should he tell him that he was most certainly decent and he could look at him now?

Then Keith turned and Lance’s jaw dropped as he revealed the laden tray he was holding. It was a large tray, big enough to hold several plates but also made carrying it with that much stuff on it awkward and worrying. Lance could see that there was also a glass of orange juice, the pulp clinging to the last inch or so Keith hadn’t bothered to fill. Beside it was a steaming mug which, now that Lance saw it, made him realise that he could smell coffee. He could also smell some sort of meat and egg - and that was when he spotted the little egg in its egg cup. All the food smells completely overwhelmed the scent of the tiny sprig of flowers which had been plopped into a tiny vase filled with water, just enough to reach the tips of the stalks. They were purple ones and Lance recognised them from the forest; Keith must have plucked them fresh this morning.

“What…?” Lance managed to say as Keith approached him.

“Shiro said I should apologise,” Keith mumbled, cheeks red. Lance couldn’t help but stare at him in surprise. “I mean, I wanted to but…” Keith shrugged and then hefted the tray as if that held the answers to all Lance’s questions.

“Uh, that…” Lance felt his heart swell and the pressure behind his eyes returned. It was sweet of Shiro to encourage Keith to actually talk to him. And he supposed it was nice of Keith to do this. He beckoned him over and Keith gingerly crossed the room. Lance helped him set it on his lap and wished there was a stand to put it on - it was far heavier than it needed to be. Staring down at what was on the place, he said, “Why… Why is there so much?”

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” Keith explained, crossing his arms over his chest.

On one plate was a small pile of toast, a little dollop of jam and a lump of partially melted butter. Another had an omelette plopped on it with absolutely no artistry, though Keith had attempted to draw something on the top of it with ketchup. Lance would say it was a smiley face if one corner of the smile hadn’t been drawn down at the side of it. Another plate had a sort of miniature all-day breakfast. There was a couple of slices of bacon and a couple of sausages, a fried egg nestled beside them. The egg cup he’d seen before was boxed in on all side with toast soldiers, none of them the same size or length, somehow. A small bowl had a tiny sprinkling of cereal in it, drowned in milk and covered with chopped strawberries.

Lance’s breath caught as he looked at the sheer effort that Keith had put into this. His heart seemed to throb; he wasn’t sure what that meant. It made him squirm and it was by sheer luck that he didn’t tip the tray off his legs. “I, um,” he said, glancing quickly up to Keith’s intense gaze before looking back to his breakfast. “I’m not going to be able to eat all this, you know…”

When he looked back up at Keith, he found him looking worried. “You… don’t like it?”

“Keith,” said Lance, slowly. “Have you seen how much you made me? I’ll never finish all this. This is… a bit of an overkill.”

“Oh. Um. Well, um, just eat what you can,” Keith stuttered, looking embarrassed. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait, hang on!” said Lance, flapping an arm in a vain attempt to catch hold of him. “There’s one thing we need to address before I start eating.”

“Can’t you do it the other way around?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, ’cause if I eat, it’ll be like I’m accepting the apology.”

Confused, Keith’s brow furrowed. “You’re not going to?”

“Only if you answer the question,” Lance answered. He picked up a fork and poked at the omelette.

“What question?”

Fixing Keith with a stern look, Lance said, “What, exactly, are you apologising for?”

Frowning all the more, Keith moved closer to him, staring down from on high. “You _know_ what I’m apologising for.”

“No, I don’t. You didn’t actually say it,” Lance pointed out, poking his fork in Keith’s direction. “And I have the feeling that you’re apologising for the wrong thing.”

“You need me to actually say it?” Keith demanded, lip curling.

“Yup. I mean, if you don’t, I might just think Shiro forced you into it and that’s not a genuine apology.”

“Oh, for-” Keith sat on the edge of the bed, glowering at Lance. “I’m sorry for kidnapping you.”

“Yeah, no.” Lance waved a dismissive hand. “I forgave you for that when Shiro explained the whole wolf-not-quite-the-same-as-the-person thing. That is so not what I want an apology for.”

“You- What? It’s not?” Keith looked rather lost and Lance wondered if he should take pity on the poor guy. Then he remembered all the sour looks Keith had been giving him over the last few days.

“Nope. Try again.”

Keith actually did as he was told, thinking furiously as Lance prodded at his food. Finally, he spoke up. “I… I suppose I’m sorry for keeping you locked up when you wanted to leave. If I hadn’t, you’d probably be at home right now.” Keith looked up at Lance so that their eyes met. “I’m sorry.”

Seeing how genuine he was made Lance’s heart seem to thump louder. He swallowed and wished he’d actually taken a sip of his orange juice. “I mean, I’m glad you think so. But, again, not what I want an apology for.”

“Then, what-?!” Keith cut off his own frustrated exclamation with a huff of breath, his glare returning in force.

“Come on, Keith. Think about it carefully…”

Sighing, Keith thought about it some more. “I’m sorry for hurting you; I’ll never do it again. And I’m sorry for snapping at you the other night.”

“I accept your apology,” Lance declared, twirling his fork in a mock celebratory dance. Grabbing his juice, he took a swig and swallowed, gasping in relief as he put it down. He refocussed on Keith and added, “Though I was more annoyed that you were shutting me out than anything else.”

“Really,” said Keith. It didn’t quite sound like a question but also sounded incredulous enough to be one. Lance decided to ignore it.

“Anyways,” he said while he used one hand to balance his tray and the other to use his fork to cut up the omelette, “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said that about, uh, dating werewolves. But I honestly didn’t mean that I wouldn’t want to date a werewolf _because_ they’re a werewolf.”

“Oh?” Keith raised an eyebrow; it actually went quite high in his disbelief.

Lance frowned at him. “Yeah. I meant that… Well, werewolves obviously have to lie to people a lot, right?” Keith blinked at him in bewilderment. “I mean, you lie to me all the time and Shiro’s lying to his Deputy friend. But… After…” Lance gestured to the window, trying to indicate who and what he was talking about. “Finding all that out about… I don’t think I want to deal with someone like that again…”

It took Keith a moment to understand but, when he did, an expression of guilt swiftly crossed his face. “Ah. Sorry.”

“Are you gonna tell me what you were up to that night?” Lance asked, wondering if Keith’s sense of guilt might convince him to reveal it.

Instead, Keith sighed. “No.” Before Lance could protest, Keith held up a placating hand. “It’s… private, I suppose.”

“Really?” said Lance, incredulously. He popped a piece of omelette in his mouth.

Keith took a deep breath. “Look,” he said. “At some point, you’re going to go home, Lance. Then you won’t need to talk to me or be here. It’s better if you don’t know too much about me or about werewolves.”

“You make it sound like I’m just gonna leave and forget about you,” Lance said, shaking his head.

“Won’t you?” said Keith. “You’ve got your own life, your family and friends. One guy in a house in the woods isn’t gonna be important to you.”

“Well, not right now he isn’t. Not when he’s being a dick.” Lance chopped at the omelette, making a loud click as the fork hit the plate. “If he, y’know, opened up a bit more, that might be a different story.”

“And what if he doesn’t _want_ to open up?”

Lance chewed as he looked up at him. “Then it’s gonna be a really shitty week.”

Keith sighed. “Okay. I won’t… shut you down. But I’m not going to tell you why I went out the other night. It’s nothing important.”

“Are you sure?” Lance asked. “It won’t come back to bite _me_ in the ass, right?”

“Of course not,” said Keith, though he was quick to look away once he’d said it.

Eyes narrowed, Lance watched him twitch the hem of his t-shirt slightly, as if he was trying to get it to sit right. Exhaling heavily, Lance rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

There was a pause before Keith finally looked back up, Lance still munching his way through what felt like an entire day’s meals. “So, uh,” said Keith, a little hesitantly. “Does that mean we’re good, then?”

“Yes…” said Lance slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“And I can go? ’Cause I wanna go do some training.”

“God, right, okay,” said Lance, somewhat amused. “But, like, if you’re going, can you take some of this away. Like I said, I’ll never finish all of this.”

“Okay.” Keith ran his eyes over the tray before he grabbed the coffee and the plate filled with meat. “I’ll eat this,” he said as he turned to go.

“Hang on! You can’t just make me breakfast in bed and then eat it yourself!” Lance exclaimed in mock outrage. “What kind of weirdo from the outback does that?!”

Keith reached the door and paused, looking over his shoulder at Lance. Slowly, he smirked, the expression transforming his face from its usual sullenness. “Me,” he answered and left Lance to his own devices.

Shaking his head, smile on his face, Lance relaxed. As he ate, he eventually became aware that he had calmed a lot since his nightmare. Remembering it made him shudder, but the idea that Keith wasn’t gonna continue being an asshole reassured him that he’d be all right.

Besides, he told himself, he’d be out of the forest by the next full moon.

* * *

Once Lance had showered, gone through his skincare routine and gotten dressed, he made his way out the back. The chopping noises of Keith's sword drifted to him through the open door of the conservatory before he saw him. Just as Lance exited the house, Keith came to the end of a run and paused, using the back of his wrist to wipe away his sweat. His black t-shirt was clinging to him, revealing muscles usually kept hidden. Noticing Lance, he turned to him, eyebrow raised.

“Didn’t you come out here a couple of hours ago?” Lance asked.

“No,” said Keith. “I had to clear up from breakfast.”

“Hmmm.” Lance _had_ noticed that the tray he'd left on his bed had disappeared when he returned from his shower, but he assumed the dishes were still sitting at the sink.

“Are you out here for any particular reason, or…?”

“Like I said before,” said Lance, “I could spar with you, if you want.”

“You didn’t exactly fill me with confidence when you did,” said Keith, dryly.

“Still better than those poles!” chirped Lance.

He was sure he heard Keith mumble, “Doubt it.” Before he could protest, Keith moved. Lance could only watch as Keith gracefully darted through the poles, hitting every one with his sword. In a matter of seconds, Keith had finished and spun to smirk smugly at him. “Think you could keep up with that?”

Lance spluttered at him. “Wha-? I- You-You- Urgh!” He stopped and waved his hands around, searching for words. Keith smirked at him, a thrill running through Lance at the sight of it. Lance pointed at him. “I might not be at that level but I bet I have the better aim! Besides,” he added, trying to regain his composure after getting so flustered, “I expect I’ll be able to do that in a couple of days.”

“Sure,” said Keith in clear disbelief. “What was that about better aim?”

“If we had a basketball hoop, I could show you.” He looked up at the side of the house and wondered if they could fit one. “I never miss a shot - I was the sharpshooter of my high school team.”

“What about your current team?” Keith asked, coming closer. “You’re in college, right?”

“Yeah.” Lance paused, looking away. He watched a bird hopping across the grass, tilting its head to and fro before it began to peck at the ground. “I… kinda quit.”

“Why?”

Sighing, Lance looked back at Keith who blinked at him. “Our college is said to have one of the best basketball teams so there’s a _lot_ of people who wanted to be on it. And a lot of them were better than me.”

“Better than the ‘sharpshooter’?” Keith asked. He sounded confused.

“Uh, yeah. I never missed a basket but I got intercepted in my passes a lot. Mainly ’cause everyone knew how good I was.” There was a pause as Keith considered this. He eventually nodded in understanding and Lance shrugged. “Besides, kinda hard to be on the team _and_ go to all my classes and stuff _and_ have a boyfriend. It was just… too much. And all the games clashed with swimming meets.”

“You do swimming, too?”

“Yup. So. Apart from playing with your wood all day-”

“Really?” said Keith, grimacing.

“-what sports do you do?”

“None. I live in a forest.”

Rolling his eyes, Lance elaborated. “What _did_ you do?”

“Track and field. I had hapkido lessons for a while.”

“‘Hapkido’? What is that, the Happy Meal version of aikido?” Lance demanded.

Keith rolled his eyes. “No. It’s a Korean martial art that teaches offensive and defensive moves. You can use weapons, too. I was good at gum, mokgum and kai.”

“I have no idea what any of that means,” Lance informed him. “Did they have belts?”

“Yes and, before you ask, I’m officially a brown belt but I could probably test for a black belt.”

Lance whistled. “Well, _colour_ me impressed,” he said, winking at Keith.

“Now do you understand that you sparring with me would be no help whatsoever?” Keith shook his sword a little as if that demonstrated just how good he was.

“You never know. Besides, if you're just gonna act all scared, then I’ll just have to assume that I’m better than you.”

Eyes narrowing, Keith stepped closer. Lance could see the sweat dripping from the loose strands of his hair. A droplet slid down his temple as he leaned towards Lance. He shuddered as he watched it before meeting Keith's eyes. “Fine. Let's go.”

“What?” said Lance, dumbly. Had his goading actually worked?

“We’ll need to get away from the poles so you won't get hurt,” Keith replied.

“Woah, woah, Speedy González!” Lance took a step back. “I didn’t say _anything_ about doing it just _now_!”

“Why not?” asked Keith, a smirk sliding smoothly onto his face. “Scared?”

“I am not!” Lance protested. “I just had a shower, you know - I don’t wanna get all sweaty _now_.”

“That’s just an excuse.” By that point, Keith had lost the fight to keep a straight face.

Glaring at him, Lance turned up his nose. “Whatever.”

They fell silent, neither of them really looking at each other. Lance kept glancing at Keith, wondering what he should say now. He cursed himself for cutting off their conversation. Awkward, Lance shifted from foot to foot.

“Well, uh,” said Keith, suddenly. “Is there anything you were wanting to do today?”

“Hmm.” Lance thought about it. Mostly, he had been wanting to apologise to Keith and get him to talk to him. But, since Keith still seemed a little reluctant to tell him anything, he figured he should start with less personal things. “Well, first off, I was gonna try to figure out where your electricity was coming from. Among other things.”

“I could show you, if you’d like,” Keith offered, even raising a hand to catch Lance’s attention.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Keith turned slightly, looking at Lance over his shoulder. It was almost coy. “This way.”

Obediently, Lance followed, noting that Keith had sheathed his sword but was still taking it with him. It made Lance wonder if he’d need it and he hurried to catch up to him. Keith didn’t seem to notice, nonchalantly making his way through the training poles and to the edge of the clearing. Then he pushed through the branches as he passed through. Lance did the same, frowning when he saw that a lot of the branches and twigs seemed to have been shorn off, creating a narrow path for a single person. Wary, Lance made sure to keep right behind Keith, just in case.

Eventually, they came upon another clearing, this one significantly smaller than the one with the house. A huge generator had been placed in the centre, wires connecting it to something on the other side of the clearing. The huge box-like thing was humming, clearly working away. On the top of it were a couple of solar panels and, attached at each corner were tall poles upon which were mounted small wind turbines. A stream ran past the thing on its other side and, though he couldn’t see it, Lance was convinced he would find a water wheel on there.

“Does this answer your question?” Keith gestured at the generator as he stepped aside, letting Lance wander around the small space.

“Uh… Yeah. But also creates new ones.” Lance turned to Keith, hands on his hips. “Dude, what the fuck? How’d you set this up? Don’t you need, like, permission from the Forestry Whatever people?”

Keith shrugged. “I own the land.”

“Eh?!”

“The clearing with the house and this clearing are owned by me. As well as some of the land surrounding it. Not the _whole_ forest,” Keith clarified. “But a sizeable amount - enough that no-one really comes here.”

“You _bought_ a bit of land?!”

“It used to be a cabin,” Keith told him, jerking his head in the direction of the house. “Shiro insisted I make it an actual house rather than live in a cabin for the rest of my life.”

“But, like…” Lance was reeling, trying to make sense of the fact that this guy was apparently rich enough to _buy_ a plot of land. “How the hell’d you afford it?”

That made Keith still for a moment. Taking a breath, he began to walk along the edge of the treeline. “My parents… left me some money.”

“Left you?”

“Yes,” said Keith, giving Lance a stern look. Lance got the sense that he didn’t want to elaborate. Not that he needed to: Lance figured he could work it out. He decided to change the subject, just a little.

“What about the Internet access? And the plumbing? How’d you get that without people finding out about this place?”

“A friend of a friend sorted that out,” Keith admitted.

“Wait, what?” said Lance, eyes wide. “You have _friends_ other than Shiro?!”

With an unimpressed look, Keith returned to the little path. “Yes,” he said. As he began to head back to the house, however, Lance heard him add, “More or less.”

“‘More or less’?” Lance repeated. “You don’t sound very confident.”

“It’s complicated,” Keith said, rather dismissively.

“Is it complicated because you live in the forest like a hermit?” said Lance, innocently. When Keith didn't respond, Lance decided to try another question. “Do those friends know about your condition?” As soon as it was out of his mouth, Lance winced. That was probably the worst possible way to ask that, suggesting there was something wrong with Keith. “Wait, sorry, that came out wrong! I meant, do they know you’re a werewolf?” Lance paused, running that over in his mind. He groaned and put his head in his hand, using his other to keep a branch out of his way. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a werewolf!” he hastily amended. “Just… Do they know?”

Keith didn’t answer until they came out of the trees and the house was in sight. “Does it matter?”

“Well…” Lance trailed off. It had been a simple yes or no question but there was obviously some sort of issue surrounding it. Normally, Lance would pester Keith until he told Lance the answer, but their new friendship - if you could call it that - was still too new for that. _Something for another day_ , Lance decided. “I have other questions, you know,” he said as they wound their way through the poles. “You better not be running away upstairs when we get in here.”

Looking over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, Keith gave Lance an amused look. “Like you pointed out earlier, training makes you sweaty. I’m gonna go get a shower. If that’s okay with you?”

“Hmm…” Lance made a big show of thinking about it. “I’ll let you go if you answer one more question just now,” he said as they stepped into the conservatory.

“All right, sure,” Keith said, shaking his head slightly.

“Cool!” said Lance. He paused and jabbed a finger in Keith’s direction. “Don’t think I don’t have, like, a ton more questions for you, dude.”

“Of course,” said Keith with a put-upon sigh.

“Okay. So, like, what’s your favourite superhero? Because we're totally having a marathon of their movies.” He didn’t wait for Keith to respond, picking up the pace as Keith walked the length of the hall. “Is it Batman? It’s totally Batman, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s Daredevil.”

“ _Daredevil_?!” Lance exclaimed. “Seriously?! I thought you’d be a DC guy!”

“You asked my favourite superhero, not my favourite comic publisher,” Keith pointed out as he turned at the bottom of the stairs. “I do like DC but I like Daredevil more.”

“Sheesh.” Lance pressed a hand to his chest. “This is a big shock. But we can watch the TV show. Never actually watched it...”

The only sign of surprise that Keith showed was raising an eyebrow. “Well, what’s yours?”

“My favourite superhero? Guess!” Lance grinned at Keith and framed his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Um…” Keith shrugged and shook his head. “Hawkeye?”

“Huh?!”

“Well, he’s an archer, right?” Keith explained, waving his hand in a lazy arc. “Like a sharpshooter?”

“Huh.” Lance thought about that a bit more. “Well, Jeremy Renner _is_ pretty hot. But, no. It’s Iron Man. Y’know, hot, has tons of fans, uber cool suit, Robert Downey Jr…”

“Really?” Keith’s nose scrunched up. “He doesn’t honestly seem all that great. I would’ve thought Spiderman more your thing, anyway.”

“Wha-? You did not just diss Tony!” Lance exclaimed.

“I… didn’t?”

“You basically did. That’s it! I’m educating you on the amazingness of Iron Man. Get ready for six- no, seven movies featuring him!” Spinning on his heel, Lance hurried off to the living room, determined to find the first Iron Man movie.

* * *

They spent the rest of the day watching the movies, Lance excitedly pointing out every cool thing Tony Stark did while Keith debunked the possibility of it actually happening. Or Keith was decidedly unimpressed and Lance launched into a rant about how attractive Tony Stark actually was. Their marathon was only interrupted for lunch, which Keith insisted on preparing, telling Lance it was part of his apology. (“Is it sandwiches, by any chance?” - “...Yes.”)

By the time they’d gotten to the first Avengers film - Lance having insisted that they watch them in chronological order - the sun was setting and Lance considered making something for dinner. Maybe something warm and cosy for the longer nights. Or even foregoing dinner and making some bowls of popcorn. He paused the film and turned to Keith.

“I’m gonna get something to eat. You want anything?”

Keith bit his lip and shook his head. Lance blinked at him, confused at that reaction. Shrugging a shoulder, Lance got up and made his way to the kitchen. He could wait an hour or so, he supposed, for a bigger meal. In the meantime, he searched through the cupboards till he found where they’d put the popcorn. Making a note of the serving suggestions, he brought out two bowls before putting the bag in the microwave. Then he leaned against the counter, waiting.

It was only because he was doing so, that he saw Keith pass by the kitchen on his way to the front door.

“Hey!” Lance exclaimed as he rushed into the hall. “Where are you going?! You can’t just skip out on the rest of the Avengers?”

“We can watch the rest tomorrow,” Keith said over his shoulder as he pulled a pair of boots on.

Brow furrowed, Lance looked him up and down. It was easy to spot his belt with his knife and sword sheathed in it. There were other things in the little compartments he had along the length of it which made it bulge. Otherwise, he was dressed all in black, save the red of his cropped jacket. Lance thought he looked like he was about to go attempt a Mission Impossible or something.

“Where _are_ you going?” he asked.

“I’m, uh, going to check on the generator,” Keith told him, stomping his foot to make sure it was in the boot right.

“Why…?” said Lance, slowly.

“Um-”

“Okay, you just said ‘um’,” Lance interjected. “You’re just trying to come up with an excuse, right?”

“No, I- The wind turbines. They’re pretty fragile so I need to-”

“In the _dark_?!”

Keith looked aggravated. “I have a flashlight.”

“Because that makes climbing on top of something with God knows how much electricity running through it, in the middle of the night, all the better,” said Lance, flatly.

“Look, it’s… I’ve got… important stuff to do,” Keith said, his expression a mix of guilt and irritation. “You don’t need to worry about it, okay? Just… stay in tonight, okay? Please?”

“What am I supposed to tell Shiro when you don’t come back from whatever dangerous thing you’re doing?” Lance demanded.

“He’ll understand,” Keith assured him. He turned from Lance and reached for the door handle. “Just stay in and eat your popcorn.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Lance made a frustrated sound. “Fine. Whatever.”

With a single nod of acknowledgement, Keith opened the door and left. Lance scowled at it for a moment before he turned and dashed back to the kitchen. He headed straight for a drawer he knew had flashlights, as Shiro had brought extra just yesterday. Grabbing one, he checked it worked, then darted the length of the house. Once he reached the conservatory, he slowed so his movements wouldn't attract Keith’s attention if he happened to glance in Lance’s direction.

There, he peered into the gathering darkness, searching. It wasn't long until Keith appeared, his shadowy form headed for the trees. But he wasn’t going towards the place in the treeline where the ‘path’ to the generator had been. Lance shook his head. With his flashlight beam sweeping across tree trunks and grass, Keith wasn't covering up his deception very well. Or at all, actually. So Lance waited until he had merged with the trees before he opened the back door.

Enough was enough, Lance had decided. If Keith was going to keep whatever he was doing from Lance, then he would find out what it was himself. So, as quietly as he could, Lance slipped from the house and, on light feet, hurried to where he had last seen Keith. When he reached the trees, he peered through them and spotted the beam of Keith's flashlight. Making sure his own was pointed straight down, Lance turned it on and and followed.

The darkness pressed in on him. Above, clouds scudded across the waning moon. An owl hooted, startling Lance; he bit back a yelp. Rustling and snuffling sounds also pierced the veil of silence. It unnerved Lance, made him think of the last couple of times he had been in the forest at night. Remembering Jason and the wolves made him shudder; he had to grit his teeth in order to keep from gasping as the memories hit him.

Maybe he should have stayed in the house.

Despite taking great care to keep from alerting Keith to his presence, he still had to push through the undergrowth. On the occasions that it was was loud enough, Keith seemed to hear him and turned around, shining his flashlight in Lance’s direction. Lance froze every time, keeping his eyes down in case their reflection gave him away, hand cupping the light he held. The beam would point his way for only a few seconds before it moved on.

Lance didn’t know how long they had been out there when he spotted something new in the distance. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. But, when he realised that he was, indeed, seeing a flickering light reflected off the bark of the trees, he picked up the pace, eager to find out what was going on. Soon, he could make out the fire that had been lit and a group of shadowed figures surrounding it. Keith headed straight for it but Lance had the sense to veer off from his path and go around until he was on the far side of the fire. Then he approached the tiny clearing, no more than a ring of trees, switched his flashlight off completely and hoped that nobody would notice him.

Hidden behind a tree, Lance peeked out at the gathering. For some reason, they were all wearing hoodies or hooded jackets. Most of the people had their hoods up, their faces in darkness. Those that had them down were too far from the fire for their faces to be seen clearly, but Lance could see that there were men and women and likely everything in between. Only a few were clearly visible.

One of them was a bulky man, his dark hair swept back. His face was mostly obscured by his rather large sideburns and the smaller beard on his chin. Something had him worried, grimacing. At his elbow was a tall, thin, black man whose head had been shaved. His face was serious but Lance couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or not. Beside a hooded man with his sword unsheathed was another tall and heavily built man. His long hair was tied into a braid, only visible as it had been draped over his shoulder. That one did _not_ look happy, his mouth pulled down in a frown. Lance wondered if it was a permanent thing. Aside from them, Keith was clearly visible, standing by the small fired, arms crossed. Taking all that in at a glance, Lance focussed on the voices, hoping he was close enough to hear but not be found.

“... on our territory,” the man Lance decided to call Braidy Bunch was saying.

“What’s that got to do with me?” Keith demanded, frowning at him.

“This is a life or death situation. We need every single person to combat this.”

“I don’t want to be involved in this.”

Swordy McSword basically growled, shifting into readiness. “He has no loyalty.”

Keith mimicked his stance, leaning forward slightly with a hand hovering over the hilt of his own sword. “I have loyalty. But not to people who _abandoned_ me.”

That made Lance frown. ‘Abandoned’? These people had abandoned Keith? Were they family? Was this a gang who had left Keith when they found out he was a werewolf or something? Maybe left him for dead and that was how he was turned? Lance wished he’d gotten up the courage to actually ask him how that had happened.

Facial Hair - no, Lance was going to call him Mud Facial - stepped forward. “Keith,” said Mud.

Actually growling, Keith folded his arms again. “What? That’s what happened? Just because I wasn’t ready to leave town.”

Heart going out to him, Lance leaned further around the trunk of his tree, hooking an arm around it to keep himself from falling. Was that why Keith was so taciturn, why he kept shutting Lance down? Maybe if Lance told him that he’d stay in his life, Keith would actually tell him what was going on? He supposed he could give Keith a hug if he asked nicely.

“You know we didn’t want to,” Shaved Ice told Keith.

“Perhaps your reluctance is due to the man you have in your house,” Braidy Bunch suggested.

Lance froze, breath caught. How did they know about him? Had Keith told them? But, no - Keith looked surprised, trying his best to hide it and failing. He gripped at the bark under his hand, willing himself not to react further.

“You told them?” Keith asked Mud Facial.

“I had to,” Mud told him. “If one of us come upon him when we can control ourselves…”

“Why do you have him in your house?” Braidy Bunch asked. Well, demanded was more like it. Lance felt himself bristling.

“None of your business,” Keith retorted, shifting to put his hand on his hip.

“I think that your pack should know what you’re up to,” Braidy responded, apparently unfazed by Keith’s hostile reply.

The words made Lance pause. ‘Pack’? Keith’s ‘pack’? As in… wolf pack? Lance’s eyes widened. Wait, were these people…?

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Keith snapped. “He’s got nothing to do with us. And he’s not a hunter, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Really? How can you be so sure?”

“He’s not.”

“We should check this,” Braidy Bunch declared. “And, as the Marmorans’ alpha, you should listen to me.”

“You’re-”

“Keith,” said Mud Facial. “Please don’t pick a fight. We only want to make sure he’s not going to kill you.”

“And then come after us,” Swordy McSword added. Keith narrowed his eyes at him. “If he knows you’re a werewolf, he might find out about us.”

That just confirmed Lance’s suspicions and he stifled a gasp. However, everything seemed to pause and those nearest to him began to turn towards him - he hadn’t managed to keep himself from being heard. Heart in his throat, Lance pulled himself upright and spun to put his back to the tree. He held his breath, biting his lip to keep from whimpering. Apparently, Lance had just walked into a werewolf powwow and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave alive if he was found.

No sooner had he had that thought than, with a snarl, a hand grabbed hold of his arm. Lance was unable to stop the scream which escaped him as he was yanked from around the tree. Trying to stay on his feet, Lance stumbled after the hooded figure. He tripped over a root and was dragged the last few feet into the light of the fire where he was thrown to the ground. Landing in a sprawl, Lance hastened to at least get to his knees only to find a forest of blades pointed at him. Beyond them, he could see Braidy, Mud and Shaved looking at him in surprise. But no-one looked as shocked as Keith: his eyes were wide, reflecting the flames beside him. He also looked a lot paler than usual and Lance knew he was in trouble.

Lance gulped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't figure out who's who with the way Lance is talking about them, you'll find out in the next chapter, don't worry. Though I think I tagged all the Blade members who have speaking roles, so...
> 
> [Hapkido](http://blackeaglemartialarts.us/what-is-hapkido/) is an actual thing. I was trying to find a martial arts thing that's a good fit for Keith and I stumbled across this. It's Korean and it focusses not only on defensive moves, but also offensive moves. Not to mention that they [also use weapons, including swords](http://www.blackbeltwiki.com/hapkido-weapons).


	8. How Dark It Was Inside The Wolf

“Is this him?” said Braidy Bunch after he’d taken a long look at Lance.

Unsure whether he should do anything, Lance looked to Keith. However, he didn’t seem like he’d be much help as he stared at Lance. It was clear he was shocked, though whether it was because he hadn’t noticed Lance following him or if it was because Lance had done so, Lance couldn’t tell. Lance watched Keith’s hands curl into fists and wondered what he was going to do now. After all, they’d just been accusing him of being a hunter… This did not look good.

Mud Facial chose that moment to step forward, gently pushing down one of the many swords aimed at Lance. “Yes, this is the young man who is living with Keith,” he began, but the way he said it had Lance blushing.

“Woah, woah!” he exclaimed. “Don’t make it sound like we’re, I dunno, _married_ or something!”

“Lance!” Keith cried, his face red. Lance wasn’t sure if that was due to the fire or what he’d just said.

“What?! I don’t want them getting the wrong idea.” Lance paused. “Whoever these guys are...”

A few more swords lowered slightly, though the people holding them kept them at the ready. Swordy McSword was not one of them. Braidy Bunch stepped closer. “This does not prove he is not a hunter,” he said to Keith.

“With how he acted when he saw my wolf form,” said Mud, “I wouldn’t think he was one.”

“That is inconclusive,” said Braidy Bunch. “He could have been without his weapons.”

“It was a _toy gun_!” Lance burst out, shifting so he could get to his feet quicker. The swords all reappeared, reminding him of the danger. Lance rolled his eyes. “I’m not a hunter. What is it with werewolves and accusing everyone in the woods as a hunter?!”

“Not many normal people wander around the woods at _night_.”

Keith stepped in at that point. “Not many people are _abandoned_ in the woods at night,” he said. He stopped when he noticed Lance’s wide eyes. There was no way Lance wanted these guys to know about his private life, especially not _that_!

“‘Abandoned’?” said Shaved Ice, sounding concerned.

“It was just a prank,” Lance quickly said. “Nothing serious.” _Till I walked in on Keith murdering a girl_ , he didn’t say.

“And yet you are now living with Keith,” said Braidy Bunch, disapproval colouring his tone.

“Some things happened.” Lance glanced at Keith, wondering how much he should say. He was grateful when Keith took over from where he left off.

“Things unrelated to you. Lower your swords.”

For a moment, no-one reacted. Then Braidy Bunch nodded and the others put the dangerous weapons away. “We shall give you the benefit of the doubt,” he told Lance as he scrambled to his feet and stepped over to Keith. It also brought him nearer to Shaved Ice and Mud Facial, but they didn’t seem as bad as the rest of them. “However,” Braidy Bunch continued, “should you interfere on Marmoran matters, then we will have to ask you to leave the forest.”

“What _are_ Marmorans?” asked Lance, ignoring the veiled threat.

There was a pause as they all seemed to look at each other, apparently waiting for someone else to answer. Finally, Braidy Bunch turned back to Lance. “We are a pack of werewolves. Keith is a part of this pack.”

“Really? Then…” Lance paused, unsure whether he should ask his next question. He decided to forge ahead, hoping he wasn’t about to be stabbed for his insolence or something. “Why doesn’t Keith live with you?”

“Never mind that,” said Keith, firmly. He turned to Braidy Bunch. “You told me what you summoned me for and you can see there’s nothing to worry about with Lance. So we’re going to go home.”

“Wait,” said Braidy Bunch, his frown becoming more pronounced. Lance wondered if he’d been born frowning. Did his wolf form look like he was frowning, too? He imagined a wolf with a frown and a braid and had to turn his head away to stop himself laughing.

Keith, who had turned to walk towards Lance, paused and looked back at Braidy Bunch. “What is it?”

“You have not told us your answer. We need every pack member to drive them back and out of our forest. Come with us and put a stop to them.”

Looking towards Lance, Keith also frowned. Lance had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Was Keith taking after his alpha? Thankfully, Keith looked away, folding his arms across his chest. “I won’t,” he said.

Braidy Bunch’s gaze slid to Lance, clearly disapproving. “Really?”

It sounded like Braidy Bunch was looking down at Lance so he narrowed his eyes and met his gaze. “It’s not _my_ fault!” he protested, folding his own arms.

“He wasn’t trying to blame you for anything,” Mud Facial said, placatingly. Lance gave him a disbelieving look; Mud grimaced and shrugged.

“It’s not just because of Lance,” Keith snapped. “There are a variety of reasons that you don’t deserve to know about.” He glared at Braidy Bunch; Braidy Bunch glared back.

“Perhaps we should have this conversation during the day, when we’re all calmer,” Shaved Ice suggested.

“We cannot do that,” Swordy McSword protested. “If we are seen…”

Silence fell. Lance heard an owl. Nobody seemed to want to be the first to speak. That, of course, did not bother Lance, who frowned at them all. “If you’re seen… what?” he asked. “Nobody’ll pay you any attention, as long as you keep the hoods down.”

Swordy Mcsword folded his arms. “You know nothing of our situation so don’t butt in.”

“Hiding from your responsibilities,” said Braidy Bunch, having ignored the interruption, “is not a mature way of dealing with the wolf. It is selfish and puts the entire forest at risk.”

Lance didn’t like the sound of that. He also didn’t like the fact that Braidy Bunch was calling Keith ‘selfish’ when he’d let Keith stay in his house. Of course, Keith _had_ kidnapped him but it had been days since he could have thrown Lance out and sent him back to town. Also, Braidy Bunch was getting on his nerves. That was why he leaned around Keith to glare at the leader.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, pointing accusingly at him. “Keith’s not selfish. He doesn’t need to come at your beck and call.” He paused and tilted his head so he could look at the side of Keith’s face. “Right? There’s not some weird bond thing like you get in stories, right? Y’know, where the-?”

Turning his head, Keith glared at him from up close. In the firelight, Lance was surprised to see Keith’s eyes shining. They had specks of purple - no, violet - in them and Lance blinked in surprise. Keith, however, narrowed them. “Lance. Stop. Stay out of this.”

“Wha-?! How can I stay out of this when Braidy Bunch over there is just… being a jackass!” Lance gestured wildly at the man, his arm nearly whacking Keith in the chest.

Behind him, Lance heard a snort of amusement. He turned slightly to see Mud Facial with a hand over his mouth. Beside him, Shaved Ice had turned his eyes skyward, either praying for strength or trying very hard not to laugh. Eventually, Mud Facial calmed enough to speak. “Kolivan,” he said, addressing Braidy Bunch. “I think we should let Keith go home to sleep. He’s not going to change his mind any time soon. One person may make or break us,” he added, turning a raised eyebrow to Keith, “but, in truth, if our plans do not work, then we will be wiped out either way.”

“‘Wiped out’?” Lance repeated, turning back to Keith. “What’s he talking about?” It worried him, made him wonder exactly how many werewolves there were in the forest and who they were apparently fighting. Would it end up at the house? Would he get wrapped up in it? Hopefully, Shiro would be able to get him out before it came to that…

“Not now,” Keith hissed. Lance blinked at that and leaned away, a little startled. He had expected Keith to shut him down completely but this left it open for a later explanation. Looking around at the gathering, Lance decided he would get that explanation, one way or another.

Though, hopefully, when there wasn’t a bunch of angry werewolves glaring at them.

“If you are not going to help us,” Braidy Bunch - no, _Kolivan_ \- said, “then you should leave us. We have plans to discuss and they should not be known outside of this pack.”

“Fine,” Keith replied. “Come on, Lance. Let’s go home.”

“Wait, that’s it?” asked Lance, turning to watch Keith stalk to the edge of the tiny clearing. He opened his mouth to say something else, only to realise he didn’t know what he was protesting.

“Yes, hurry up,” snapped Keith, brushing past one of the Marmorans. The hooded person moved aside without complaint and left the way open for Lance which, after everything, Lance reckoned was rather considerate.

Looking around at them all, Lance saw the intense gazes. The disapproval seemed to radiate from them, making Lance want to squirm. “Well,” he said, and raised a hand in a weak wave. “It was nice to meet you all.” Lance made sure to keep his voice cheerful, grinning at them. Then he hurried after Keith, using the flashlight he had thankfully kept hold of to show him the way.

Once he’d caught up, they strode through the forest in silence. Lance could see that Keith was gripping his flashlight tightly, so much so that he was surprised Keith hadn’t broken it. Clearly, it wasn’t the best time to try to talk to him. So Lance followed him, hoping he could ask Keith all his questions when they got back to the house.

But, when the lights they’d left on became visible through the shadows of the trees, Keith broke the silence. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded, though there was less of his usual snappish tone in it. “I told you the forest is dangerous.”

“Well, gee, Keith, that totally explained everything,” said Lance, sarcastically.

“I thought it was obvious!” Keith retorted, clearly exasperated. “I mean, you’ve met Thace!”

“Uh… Which one was Thace?” asked Lance, rather confused. None of the people there had looked familiar.

“The guy with the beard.”

“Oh, Mud Facial,” Lance said, nodding in understanding. “But, uh, nope, never seen him before in my life.”

Keith sighed as they finally emerged from the trees. “Not in his human form. Don’t you remember the wolf that almost attacked you a couple of nights ago?”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that you?”

“No, the- Dammit.” Keith paused and took a deep breath, reaching out to open the back door. “Me and Shiro had to protect you from him after you ran out of the house.”

“What?” said Lance, stopping dead. “That was him? But he seemed… y’know… nice.”

Not stopping, Keith continued on his way. “He is. Him and Ulaz.”

“Who’s Ulaz?” asked Lance, jogging to keep up.

“The one who was standing beside Thace.”

“Huh.” Lance thought about this new information for a moment as Keith continued towards the stairs. “Shaved Ice sounds better,” Lance decided.

He nearly ran into Keith when he stopped in his tracks, surprising Lance. Keith turned to him, frowning in confusion. “Were you… giving them nicknames?”

“All the better to differentiate between them, my dear,” Lance said in a nasally voice. He grinned at Keith who only frowned deeper.

“You,” Keith finally said, “are very weird.”

Offended, Lance squawked. “Wha-?! Says the guy with Mothman books everywhere!”

“At least Mothman makes sense!” Keith exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and dropping the flashlight on the stair two up from the bottom. He quickly scooped it up and, without further ado, began to make his way upstairs.

“Wait, where are you going?!” Lance demanded, following him up.

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Wha-? You can’t just- What the hell is going on, Keith?!” Lance tried to slip past him so he could block his path but Keith didn’t leave any openings and turned so abruptly that Lance nearly fell back down the stairs. Keith had to grab his wrist as Lance used his other hand to grab the bannister, his heart pounding. Once he had calmed a little, Lance looked back at him and frowned. “You can’t just shut me out of this. They were really close to the house – what if they end up coming here? Or, like, attacking me because I _might_ be a hunter?” Lance looked right into Keith’s eyes, determination flooding through him. “Who are they to you?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Keith insisted. “You heard what they said - they won’t come near here unless I agree to do what they say.”

“Keith!” Lance exclaimed. “This is exactly why I followed you out there tonight! How am I supposed to live with you if we can’t… I dunno… trust… each other?”

Groaning, Keith dropped Lance’s arm and reached up to cover his face with his hands, rubbing at his forehead with his fingertips. “Do we need to do this _now_?”

“Hell yeah, we do!” said Lance - and promptly yawned. Clearly, his lack of sleep and wandering through the forest at night had caught up to him. When he opened his eyes again, it was to see Keith staring at him with a raised eyebrow. Embarrassed, Lance looked away and over the bannister, seeing the light still streaming from the living room. “Uh, yeah…”

“See? We should go to bed,” Keith told him and made his way up the rest of the stairs.

But Lance took the stairs two at a time in order to catch up with him and grabbed his elbow. “If we don’t do this now, when _will_ we do it?”

With his hand on the handle of his bedroom door, Keith chewed on his lip, not looking at Lance. Then, with a sigh, he said, “I’ll answer your questions in the morning.”

“You promise?”

Actually meeting Lance’s eyes, Keith nodded. “I swear. Now, go to bed.”

“Sheesh, okay, fine, _mom_ ,” Lance grumbled, letting Keith go. He crossed the hall to the room he was using and reached out for the handle. There, he paused, and turned back to Keith who was still standing at his closed door. Lance barely managed to stop himself from startling at the sight of him. He narrowed his eyes at him and jabbed a finger in his direction. “We’re also gonna watch the rest of the Iron Man films. Got it?”

Mouth twitching, Keith nodded. “Okay.” He hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded once, turned and slipped into his room. Lance watched the door close with a frown. If Keith tried to get out of telling him anything, he decided, he’d have to take drastic measures. He wondered if hiding Keith’s sword would make him talk…

* * *

Yet again, Lance found himself having a nightmare. It was an accelerated version of the dream from the night before, except, this time, there were far more wolves. Jason’s face still cycled around him, his eyes shining from a majority of the wolves faces. Thankfully, this time, Lance was so terrified that he couldn’t scream and woke before the wolf began munching on his heart. So, once more, he started the day panting in his bed, sweat dripping from him.

He sighed once his heart had stopped pounding. Was he never going to have a good dream again? Would he be plagued with nightmares forever? Lance supposed he could only hope that they’d stop once he’d left the forest. For now, though, he would just have to put up with it - and go have a shower.

Once he’d done that, he made his way downstairs and got some breakfast, before he went looking for Keith. The sun had only just been rising when he’d slipped from the bedroom, so he wasn’t expecting Keith to be around. However, when he entered the living room, he found that the very man he was looking for was sitting on the couch, a spoon in his mouth and bowl of cereal in his lap. He looked up when Lance entered before returning his attention to a Planet Earth documentary.

“Didn’t expect to see you up,” Lance told him as he strode to the other side of the couch. Collapsing into it, he munched on his toast, watching a frog going about its business.

“Mm,” was Keith’s response.

“So are you gonna explain what was going on last night?”

Sighing, Keith grabbed the remote and paused the programme before turning the TV off. “Okay, fine - what do you wanna know?”

“Let’s start with who they are, exactly,” Lance said, raising an eyebrow.

“They’re a pack of werewolves called the Marmora,” Keith explained, scooping up some cereal. He raised it to eye level and stared at the little flakes. “This forest is their home, though they keep far enough away from the towns that no-one notices them. Most of the time. Sometimes they end up around here.”

“And… you’re a Marmoran, too?” Lance paused, slice of toast hovering in front of his mouth. “Hm. Actually, I think Marmorite sounds better.”

“Marmoran,” said Keith, firmly.

“Sheesh, okay, whatever. Are you one of them?”

“Technically, yes,” Keith admitted. “But…”

“They left you behind?”

“Mm.”

Silence fell for a moment and Lance had to suppress an exasperated sigh. “So? How’d you become one of them? How’d you become a werewolf? Were you born that way or what? Or did you get bitten by one of them? And how’d you end up out here, anyway?”

Keith chose that moment to stick his spoon into his mouth. He looked at Lance out of the corner of his eye and Lance stared back, waiting. Just as Lance was beginning to frown, sure that Keith had decided against telling him, Keith spoke. “If you want me to answer all of that… it’ll be a long story.”

Rolling his eyes, Lance poked his toast in Keith’s direction. “I’m in for the long haul, buddy. Lay it on me.”

So, between bites of cereal, Keith began his story. “I met Shiro when I was sixteen. I… My parents had died a couple of years before and I was getting dragged around different foster families. I can’t remember which family I was on - five or six, I think - and I was… acting out.”

“A rebel, huh?” Lance commented, remembering the way Keith had acted with the Marmorans. He wanted to say something about Keith’s parents, apologise or ask about them, but Keith had brushed past that detail so quickly that he was reluctant to bring the conversation back to them. In fact, there were a lot of things Lance wanted to say and Keith had barely started.

“I suppose,” said Keith with a shrug, dismissing Lance’s interest. “Anyway, I got into trouble ’cause I got into a fight with some assholes. Shiro was barely out of the academy when he came to sort it out.”

“Wait, did Shiro _arrest_ you?!” Lance exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Yup,” said Keith around his spoon. When he noticed Lance’s shocked expression, he pulled the spoon away so he could smirk. “What, you don’t think he would?”

“No, it’s just… You seem like such good friends now…”

“We are,” Keith confirmed. “But, back then, I was just another wayward kid that the new cop on the block wanted to help. He kept checking up on me, turning up at random times at each of my foster homes. Even when I was moved on, he made sure to find out where I was.” He snorted, rolling the spoon between his fingers. “It used to irritate me. I shouted at him a lot. But, after a while, he was the only one I could really talk to, who knew what I’d been through and, well, understood, to an extent.

“Then he got a new job opportunity. His superiors recommended him to the town here and told him it would be good for him. More money, second-in-command, came with a small house. And he took it.”

“He left you behind?” asked Lance, shocked.

“Yes… and no,” Keith admitted. “I was in my senior year of high school when he told me about it, just starting to apply to colleges. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I should do with myself. So I decided to apply to the college here.”

“Wait, seriously?” Lance looked at him, really looked. Had he ever seen Keith before? That dark hair, those sharp eyes, that unimpressed look… Nope, Lance didn’t remember ever having seen him before he woke up in the basement. Before he could voice this, Keith continued.

“Yeah. I dropped out after… Well.”

“‘Well’?”

“I was turned into a werewolf, Lance,” said Keith, rolling his eyes. “Once that happened, I left school.”

“What-? Why?!” Lance exclaimed. “Keith, why would you-?”

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” Keith told him. He looked away and stared at the TV. “Not that it helped.”

“How did you get turned into a werewolf, anyway? Was it a bite?”

“Yes.”

Lance sighed. “Was it in town? ’Cause, I mean, if everyone I know is in danger, then-”

“Relax,” said Keith, dipping his spoon into his cereal. “I was in the forest when I got bit.”

“Wha-? Why?” Lance realised something and glared at Keith. “Didn’t you say it was stupid of me to be in the forest at night? And you went and did it, too, huh?”

Nodding, Keith sighed, still not looking at Lance. “Yeah. You were lucky. I have no idea why I didn’t bite you.”

“Forget that,” said Lance dismissively, waving his hand. “Why were _you_ in the forest at night?”

For a moment, Keith didn’t answer. His grip tightened on his spoon and Lance watched him warily. “My dad…” Keith trailed off, stirring the remains of his cereal. “He used to take me hiking. Sometimes, we went at night to see the stars. I’d found a spot during the day that I thought would be good for stargazing. It was clear, that night, and the moon was full, so I wasn’t worried about getting lost in the dark…”

“‘The moon was full…’” Lance echoed, grimacing.

“Mmhmm. Before I knew it, there was a wolf and it was attacking me. It bit me and, before I could fully register what was happening, it whined and took off. I passed out then.”

“Oh, shit, did you die?” Lance breathed. He blinked. “Wait, isn’t that vampires?”

“Vampires,” Keith agreed, nodding. “And, no. I woke up again when the sun rose - and this naked man came out of the trees. He brought me to the cabin that used to be here.”

“The wolf who’d attacked you?”

“Yeah. That was how I met Thace.”

“Thace?” Lance frowned at him. “But I thought Kolivan was your alpha.”

“He’s not my alpha,” Keith growled, glaring at nothing. “He is the Marmorans’ alpha. I…” Keith sighed heavily. “I was bitten on the full moon. When you’re bitten, you don’t turn until the next full moon. So, once I’d gotten over the, I dunno, _shock_ , I wanted to go back to town, take care of all my loose ends before I left. Kolivan wanted to leave the area - they hadn’t intended to be anywhere near where I was but the wolves had run rampant that night. We had an argument and I left to do what I wanted. When I came back to the forest, they had left me behind. I don’t consider him my alpha: Thace is more my alpha than he is.”

For a while, they sat in silence. Lance mulled over what he had said. After his parents had died and after Shiro had almost left him behind for his career, Keith must have felt awful when he discovered that the Marmorans had left. Not to mention, if they’d been away when the next full moon rose, Keith would have been alone when he transformed for the first time. Scenes of horrifying and painful transformations from movies flickered through his mind and Lance grimaced around his toast.

A thought occurred to him and Lance quickly swallowed his mouthful. “Wait. I thought Shiro had turned you. I mean, he’s bigger than you and I figured you were smaller because he’d bitten you and, I dunno, wolves got smaller as they were created or something?”

“No,” said Keith, sounding tired - or pained, Lance couldn’t quite work it out. “He was turned after me.”

“Did you-?”

“No,” Keith said, quickly. “I didn’t. It…” Keith suddenly sat up straighter and placed his bowl on the coffee table. “Actually, I think it’s best if Shiro tells you the story himself.”

“Okay,” said Lance, a little confused. He didn’t want details, after all; a sentence would do. But he let it drop since Keith was looking a little tense, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the couch. His gaze was still locked on the TV, jaw clenched. Lance tried to think of something else to talk about since, apparently, Shiro’s turning was a sore subject. Had one of the Marmorans turned him against both his and Keith’s wishes? Shuddering, Lance popped the last piece of his toast in his mouth, chewing it slowly. Once he’d swallowed it down, he asked, “So, anyway, what do they want you to do now? I mean… they said something about territory?”

It took Keith a while to gather himself or his courage (Lance couldn’t tell which) before he managed to speak. When he finally did, he sounded resigned. “The Marmorans aren’t a separate species of werewolf,” he explained. “They’re a faction. Kolivan was the first one to break away and he didn’t intend to make a pack - the Marmorans were created mostly by accident.”

“Huh. So Kolivan wanted to be a lone wolf, huh?” Lance commented, trying to make Keith at least look less like he was in physical pain. “Kinda like you.”

“Hm.”

“Right. Well. What - or who - did they break away from?” asked Lance, a little disquieted that Keith hadn’t bothered to mention that.

“The Galra.”

It was only one word, yet Lance could still feel a shiver run down his spine - probably due to Keith’s obvious revulsion. “And, uh, those are… other werewolves?”

“Yeah, but they’re not like the Marmorans. The Marmorans don’t actually want to harm people. The Galra, though, they like to… _play_ with their prey.” Keith sounded disgusted and turned his head enough to look at Lance. “You were lucky you weren’t found by one of them that night.”

Again, Lance shuddered. This time, it was because he could see, quite clearly, that he could very well have gone from Jason’s… attack to one of a bigger, more deadly wolf. He had no doubt that it would be like in his dreams: running from Jason then from a wolf only to watch it eat his heart. Chills ran along his body and he wished he hadn’t asked about them. As he tried to calm himself, he remembered something.

“Wait, okay, so, what did they mean about… about territory and being wiped out? What’s going on out there, Keith?”

Instead of answering straight away, Keith eyed him. “Don’t freak out,” he finally said, “but it seems the Galra are beginning to encroach on the Marmorans territory, deeper in the forest.”

“And you’re not going to help them?” Lance asked, bewildered. “But… what if they beat the Marmorans and-and come here?”

“I promised Shiro that I wouldn’t leave you alone here,” Keith said instead.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to do that at the expense of your home!”

“And what if Jason actually comes looking for you and finds this place while I’m away?” Keith turned towards him more fully so he could level a serious look at Lance. “What if he tries to take you away to where he’s got the others?”

“The doors have locks, right? I’ll just lock him out.”

“Lance, those people were probably _convinced_ to go away with him. _You_ were convinced to go to the woods with him.”

“Then I’ll call Shiro,” Lance insisted. “I’d be fine for a while, if he came straight away.”

Keith eyed him. “Hm. Well, I’m still not going to go with them. Their tactics… aren’t something I agree with.”

“Oh?” Lance watched him for a moment but Keith did not elaborate so Lance shook his head and dropped it. He thought of the Marmorans, fighting against a pack of wolves with their swords. Of course, it wouldn’t really be like that but, still. They could probably use all the help they could get-

Wait. If they had called Keith to discuss their mission… And they needed everyone…

Eyes wide, Lance turned to look at Keith who had reached for the remotes, obviously thinking their conversation was over. Lance was quick to shatter that illusion. “Keith… If they ‘needed everyone’ then… why wasn’t Shiro there?”

He saw Keith tense, his eyes flicking up to his very briefly. The quick movements did nothing to hide his surprise. “Ask Shiro,” he mumbled, turning the TV back on.

“Is… Did Shiro get bitten by a Galra?” Lance quietly asked.

There was a pause. Eventually, Keith turned the TV off again. “Yes,” he murmured.

“Oh, my Go- _How_?!”

“It’s my fault…”

"What? I doubt that…”

Keith sighed. “I didn’t tell him I was going to live out here. He bumped into one of my professors after I’d dropped out: I’d been telling him I was too busy with college to meet up so he asked how I was doing. When he couldn’t find me and I refused to answer his calls and texts, he asked his Deputy friend to see if I’d left a paper trail.”

“And he found the cabin?” Lance concluded, rather impressed.

“Yeah. So, one night, after work, he made his way into the forest with a flashlight in order to find me. Except he got lost and ended up deeper in the forest than he had meant to go.”

Grimacing, Lance said, “And that was when he was attacked?”

“He said he hadn’t stood a chance,” Keith said, quiet and melancholy. “It was the night before my first full moon. The Galra who found him bit him and deliberately left him alive. Then he was taken to their lair and kept there till he transformed the next night. He managed to run away then. They gave him the scar across his nose, too - wounds from silver stay with us even when we transform back from our wolf forms.”

“The next night?” Lance breathed, shocked and, frankly, rather horrified. He knew how terrifying it was to be attacked and then kidnapped but the thought of a transformation so soon after that…

“Shiro doesn’t talk about what happened while he was with them but I think they refused to tell him anything,” Keith told Lance, finally looking over at him. “He’d have been confused and stressed - that tends to bring out the more violent side of the wolf when you turn. At least I knew what was going on that night: I think the Galra just dragged him outside as the sun set and let him run off. They probably expected him to become so guilty that he would return to them.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“I was the one who found him in the morning. Maybe he’d been worried about me or maybe he was still trying to find me even in his wolf form. Whatever it was, he ended up not far from here and I came across him as I walked home from my own transformation.”

“That sounds horrible…”

“Yeah. It was.” Keith looked away again, shoulders hunched.

“Do the Marmora not like Shiro, then?” Lance asked.

“Kolivan refuses to speak with him,” Keith said, bitterly. “Which is annoying as I consider Shiro more my family and much more worth my loyalty than a wolf pack I had no desire to be a part of.”

“You… really got a raw deal, huh?” said Lance with a grimace. “Both you and Shiro.”

Nodding, Keith shrugged. “Yeah, well.”

Lance watched him for a moment, noting how he hung his head slightly. Clearly, he was going through what-ifs, blaming himself for the way things had turned out. But Lance knew that Shiro didn’t blame him for that, not with the way he worried over Keith and turned up with provisions for the lone werewolf. It was time to change the subject, Lance decided, and he knew just how to do that.

“Right, well… I’ll consider that your promise kept,” Lance told Keith and he watched Keith relax. “One of them, at least.”

Keith tensed. “‘One of them’?”

“Yeah.” Lance leaned forward and grabbed the remote from Keith. “No more animal documentaries - it’s time for Iron Man!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry to say that this may be the last chapter for a while... I might squeeze out a new chapter in September but, if not, my writing 'schedule' is full until December.
> 
> (That's mainly cause I decided to do one of those week-long Tumblr things and I want to start writing it ASAP so I'm no late. Then there's three long one-shots in July, followed by something I want to post in the middle of August - when I'm going away for two weeks. Then I've got something to write for the end of October and then the rest of my horror story that I do in October (for a different fandom) and then NanoWrimo and then it's December!)
> 
> So, uh, sorry in advance that this chapter wasn't so exciting but, hey, at least there's no cliffhanger, ha!


	9. And Am Bringing You Some Cakes

“Well?” said Lance, waving a hand towards the TV. “Daredevil couldn’t do that.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “What, create an evil robot that wants to destroy the world?”

Lance sighed. “You can’t keep going on about that. It was an easy mistake.”

“A stupid one.”

“And I was talking about the whole stopping the city dropping thing.” Lance took the opportunity to nudge Keith’s thigh with his foot.

Both of them were lounging on the couch, the end of The Avengers: Age of Ultron playing. Robots exploding provided background noise as they talked. For the first time since he’d ended up at the house, Lance felt at ease, felt as if he was hanging out with a friend. It was a relief, especially since some parts of the films, for some reason, reminded him of the night of the full moon and Jason. Keith always drew him from the memory with a snort or a complaint and it happened less as he paid more attention to his new friend.

Rolling his eyes, Keith grabbed hold of Lance’s foot and flung it away from him as best he could. “People still died,” he said.

Sticking out his tongue, Lance let his foot drop back down, stretching to make sure it landed in Keith’s lap. “But they saved, like, loads more.”

“They caused it!” Keith exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“See, now you kinda sound like him in Civil War.”

“It’s the only time he made sense!”

“So you’re Team Iron Man?” Lance asked, folding his arms. He let himself slide down the couch a little more and dared to put his other foot on Keith’s lap. For some reason, the werewolf let him do as he liked and Keith even draped an arm over his shins, for lack of a better place to put it. It pleased Lance, his chest feeling warm and tight at the change, now that they’d opened up to each other.

“No way. That law’s stupid.”

“Ah. A Team Cap guy.”

“And you’d have supported Stark?” Keith said, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, man.” Lance waved a hand dismissively, glancing at the TV to see that Clint was in the process of trying to rescue that one kid. “I don’t wanna not be able to save someone 'cause some jackass tells me not to.”

“Huh.” Keith looked at him, something thoughtful about his expression. “You don’t wanna stick with your precious Tony?” He breathed a brief laugh. “Or with his suits?”

“I mean, it kills me to say no, but that’s the truth. Besides,” he added, with a huge grin, “the sexual tension would be _amazing_.”

A strange expression crossed over Keith’s face, a mixture of amusement and distaste. “Really?” he said, tone flat.

“What? You can’t deny that Robert Downey Junior is hot.”

“I can,” said Keith, stubbornly.

“Then who do _you_ think is the hottest person in the Marvel movies? Scarlett Johansson?” Lance nodded at the TV since he’d managed to time it well; Natasha’s face filled it as she turned her head to look at something, probably another rogue robot.

Keith snorted. “Of course not.”

“Then who? Zoe Saldana? Elizabeth Olsen?”

Brow furrowed, Keith glanced at him. Now that Lance had relaxed enough, he could see that he was perplexed rather than annoyed. Lance blinked at him. “Why are you only listing the girls?” Keith asked.

“Well.” Lance stopped, wondering that himself. He didn’t usually assume that people were heterosexual. So why was he doing that with Keith? His thoughts were quick to turn to Jason, of his hands… Suddenly, he couldn’t bear to have anyone touching him and he abruptly sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor, unable to look at Keith to see his reaction. Frantic, pulse quickening, he tried to remember what they had been talking about and scrambled for a response. “I just figured you couldn’t like guys if you don’t find Robert Downey Junior hot.”

“I’m gay, Lance,” said Keith, rolling his eyes. He shot another look at Lance and Lance quickly reached over to grab his blue Mountain Dew. “I’m very gay,” Keith added, making Lance pause. “Which is why I prefer Chris Hemsworth.”

“Wha-?” Lance straightened, drink forgotten as he turned back to him. “ _Thor_?!”

“Yeah. So?”

“You like your men big and burly and… beardy?” Lance said, feeling oddly relieved and disappointed that that would rule him out.

“Not… particularly?” Keith replied, shrugging a shoulder. “But I don’t really think the rest of the Avengers are hot. Thor’s the closest. Not that I’d go out with any of them - they’re all disasters.”

Lance looked around the living room. “Keith. You live in the middle of the woods. I’m not sure you can call the Avengers disasters.”

“This is me being sensible,” Keith insisted.

“Sure.”

Keith only scoffed in response and the conversation died. They both turned their attention back to the TV, Lance picking up his drink so he could curl up on his end of the couch. The movie reached its conclusion and the credits began to roll. Neither of them made a move, not even bothering to get ready to put the next one on. Lance was rather excited to watch Civil War, but something played on his mind, something specifically about Keith.

Since he’d been turned into a werewolf, Keith had given up his entire life - but what exactly could he have been doing right now if they both weren’t stuck in the woods?

As the location specific credits slowly moved up the screen, Lance worried at his lip, wondering if he should bring it up. There was still so much he didn’t know about Keith and he wasn’t sure how Keith would react. He didn’t want to shatter their newfound friendship. Then again, what else were they to talk about?

“Hey, man,” Lance said, turning to Keith who was already looking at him. For some reason, Keith appeared to be concerned: maybe he’d seen Lance biting at his lip.

“What’s up?”

“What was it you were gonna do in college?” Lance asked, tilting his head a little. “Like, would I have seen you around? Been in the same classes as you?”

“Why does it matter?” Keith asked, blinking at him in bewilderment.

“Just wondering,” Lance replied, shrugging a shoulder.

“I was gonna be in the art department.” Keith glanced around the rather plain room. “It wasn’t the best place in the world to study it, but it would have been good enough.”

“Really?” said Lance, thinking of the half-finished dining room.

“I haven’t really done anything since I finished the house…”

“Huh. Well, I might’ve seen you in Art History or something, if that was a class.”

“Just Art History?” Keith asked.

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, Lance looked back at the TV. The credits were coming to an end, signalling time for the extra part of the movie. “I… hadn’t really decided what I want to do. But I’ve got an Art History class next semester. If… If I get back- Oh, hey, Thanos!” Lance leaned forward, away from the thought of not being able to get home in time for his exams or Thanksgiving or Christmas or New Year or- He had to take a deep breath to stop himself from thinking about it.

“So we might’ve met at college, is what you’re saying?” Keith suggested.

“Maybe,” Lance agreed. “Maybe we’d have gotten along better when we met.”

Keith snorted. “ _Yeah_.”

Hearing his amusement, Lance grinned at him. “It’d have been miles better, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith leaned for the controller. “Are we watching anything else?”

His words had Lance grabbing for the controller as well, wrestling it from Keith’s hands. Keith backed off and let Lance set up Civil War. They sorted out drinks and popcorn and settled down to watch the Avengers disintegrate. It wasn’t until Wanda was revealed on screen that Lance spoke again; he’d been thinking of Keith’s destroyed career and the unfinished dining room as they went to and from the kitchen.

“Hey, Keith?” he said, turning to him, legs curled under him.

“Hm?”

“What are we gonna be doing tomorrow?”

For a moment, Keith stared at the screen, apparently watching the movie. Then, slowly, his brow furrowed, eyebrows dropping low, he said, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, as much as I love watching movies and stuff, I’d like to do _something_. Like…” Lance trailed off and shook his head, unable to express his misgivings about having nothing to do for the rest of his time in the house. “Like, what do you do normally when you’re not training? Do you do any art when I’m not around?”

“No, I…” Keith looked uncomfortable and kept his eyes trained on the TV. “I just… read. Or… whatever.”

“Then… can we finish decorating your dining room?”

Keith's head whipped around and he stared at Lance with wide eyes. “What?” he said, a little breathlessly.

“Just… I think it’s a bit of a shame that you’ve stopped your art,” Lance said, eyes flicking away from Keith. He concentrated on the collapsing building that Wanda had caused. “Also, it just, like, bugs me, knowing it’s there and half finished.”

“Really?” Keith didn’t sound convinced.

“Urgh, Keith, I just want something to _do_!”

“I…” There was a silence, broken only by the music in the film. Eventually, Keith found his voice again. “I dunno…”

“Or you could let me use that stuff in the conservatory and make a-”

“No,” said Keith, sharply. It startled Lance enough that he looked over at him, frowning. Keith wasn’t looking at him, but his jaw and fists were clenched, as if he was holding back his temper.

For a moment, Lance considered arguing. “Okay,” he murmured instead. “But… Just know that my grandparents have a farm and I know how to dig holes and stuff.”

“Okay,” said Keith after a pause, visibly relaxing.

Lance let it go for now, though his curiosity burned. Why was Keith so against the idea of actually using the gardening tools?

* * *

Later, after they had stopped for dinner upon Lance’s insistence (during which they had a discussion about the best kinds of pasta), Lance was in the process of trying to convince Keith to watch Spider-Man: Homecoming. According to Keith, it didn’t count as an Iron Man movie. Or, rather, there was no point to watching it in an attempt to convince Keith that Iron Man was the best.

“I mean,” said Keith, gesturing at the TV, “it focusses on Spider-Man, not Iron Man. So what’s the point.”

“But Tony’s _in_ the film!” Lance exclaimed. “Come on, we gotta watch it or we haven’t had the _full_ Iron Man experience.”

“Can’t we do something else? I’d rather, I dunno, read a book. Or, well, go outside.”

“It’s dark outside,” Lance told him, remembering the last rays of sun that had shone into the kitchen as he’d been cooking. “What would you do _outside_?”

“Get some fresh air,” Keith replied, immediately. “And it’s nice when it’s dark. Quieter. I like to-”

A frantic knock interrupted them, making Lance jolt in surprise. His knee knocked against the coffee table and he hissed in pain as he drew himself away from it. Beyond the pain, though, he registered that it had been two quick taps to the front door. Keith’s wide eyes looked over at Lance, worry clear in his eyes. Neither of them had been expecting Shiro, and the fast way he’d made himself known had seemed hurried, harried, almost desperate. For a moment, they both stared at each other, Lance still grimacing from the pain. Then, without a word, Keith was on his feet and hurrying from the room. Lance watched him go, wondering what was going on.

Listening carefully, Lance could hear Shiro and Keith's voices. Shiro sounded a little breathless; Lance wondered if he'd run here. Was something wrong? Had the Sheriff figured out where Lance was? Had the Galra turned up? Had Jason kidnapped someone else?

Their voices drew closer and Lance caught the tail end of what they were saying. “Is this even-?” Keith asked.

“Is he in here?” Shiro interrupted him, his footsteps moving closer.

“Yeah. Shiro-”

Suddenly, the cop burst into the room, movements harried and quick. “Lance,” he said when he spotted him, crossing the room to sit on a nearby armchair. He wore dark clothes: black pants, black jacket, black hat that he tugged off as he strode past Lance. His backpack was in his arms, hugged close as if he was anxious about losing whatever was in it. As soon as his butt was parked on the chair, Shiro leaned forward. “I've found something.”

“What?” Lance breathed, hope and dread and fear rising within him. The good mood from earlier evaporated completely. He worried that he wouldn't be able to regain the relaxed air he had managed throughout the day once he was told what had happened.

“Shiro, is this even legal?” Keith demanded.

Lance looked up at where Keith stood just beyond the end of the couch, out of reach. “What? What's going on?”

“I told you that I was following Jason, didn't I?” said Shiro, ignoring Keith.

“Yeah...” said Lance, slowly.

“Where did he tell you that he was living?”

“What?” The fear dropped, overwhelmed with Lance's confusion. “He's an RA. He lives in the halls.”

“He never mentioned a house?”

“A- What? Shiro, you're not making any sense.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro seemed to calm somewhat. Closing his eyes, he took another breath, allowing himself to sink back into the chair. It helped ease Lance's dread somewhat and even Keith seemed to take fortitude in it as he sat down beside Lance. When Shiro opened his eyes, he flicked his eyes between both of them, including them both in what was happening. It made Lance relieved for some reason, knowing that he would be involved instead of talked about: it had only been a few days since he'd overheard Shiro and Keith talking about him through the basement door.

“The Sheriff isn't keeping tabs on Jason, like I've said,” Shiro told them. “So, when my shift is over, I go to the college and wait to see if he comes out. And he has definitely been on the move.”

“You mean...?” Lance whispered, horrified.

“I think he's got another target.”

Lance felt like he couldn't breathe. His imagination conjured images of another guy or girl, younger than Lance, taken in by Jason. The forest surrounding them, the car providing light, Jason the only person in the vicinity. Their struggles when they realised that he didn't care about them like they thought he did. Screams echoing as he forced them over a log and- Lance had to take a deep, shuddering breath, though it didn't dissipate the panic.

“We've got to stop him!” Keith declared, surprising Lance. He looked over at Keith to find him frowning, a mix of determination and vexation.

“Yes,” Shiro agreed. “So I followed him when he left the campus tonight. I thought he'd be meeting someone. But...”

“'But'?” Lance prompted, eyebrows raised.

“He went to a house. I looked it up, through the relevant channels and... Jason owns it.”

“A... house? But... he's a college student. Right?”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Shiro said, grimacing.

“What do you mean?” Keith demanded.

“If he's still a student, he'll be entering his ninth year of being an undergraduate, given how many disappearances there have been from the college and surrounding area. And, when we did background checks, we haven't turned up any completed courses he's done. It's as if he's a perpetual student without graduating.”

“Wha-? But, then...” Lance wrapped his arms around his stomach, desperate for his mother's hugs. “How old _is_ he?”

“I'm sorry, Lance,” said Shiro, leaning forward to place a hand on his knee. Lance had to fight down the urge to flinch away.

“So he's wormed his way into the college somehow?” Keith asked, frowning deeply.

“Mmhmm. But... There might be a way to stop this.”

Lance looked up at him, perplexed. “How?”

“I... well...” Shiro glanced at Keith. “I could lose my job for this but... I broke into the house once Jason was gone. He hadn't bothered with any sort of security system so it was a simple matter of... well.”

“Breaking in,” Keith said, sighing. “What are you gonna do if anyone finds out about it?”

“I'll figure that out later,” Shiro said, rather dismissively. Lance hid a grimace. He didn't want Shiro to lose his job because of him.

Still, he was curious as to what had gotten Shiro so worked up. “What did you find in there?” he asked.

“It was pretty empty,” Shiro explained. “No pictures or posters or personal items. It was like a showroom. Except for one room which was empty except for a small table, cushion and...” Shiro trailed off and undid the backpack. With a grunt, he pulled out a laptop, the red back shining in the light. It seemed to Lance to be dangerous and he shrank away a little.

“You took it from the house?!” Lance exclaimed, worried.

“Won't Jason notice it's missing?” Keith questioned Shiro, lips pressed together tightly.

“Maybe. I just need to figure out how to get into it,” Shiro said. “I'll get what I need and take it back. If I can get that done within a day or two, I think I can get it back before he misses it. He doesn't go to the house that often, after all.”

“How are you gonna get into it?” Lance asked. “He's got a password, right?”

“Yeah,” said Shiro. “But that's why I'm here. Don't you know how to get into this? Surely he had it around you-”

“No,” said Lance, shaking his head. “The laptop he had at the dorms was black. This isn't hi- It's not the one I saw.”

“A secret laptop,” Shiro said, looking between them. “This has to be significant. We just need to figure out his password. Do you know the one he used on his other one, Lance? It might be the same. People tend to use the same password for various things.”

“Uh, yeah... I think so,” Lance mumbled, unsure. He had never actually touched Jason's laptop before, had never entered the password. But there had been a time when he'd been in the middle of getting ready for a night out with Jason and had suddenly remembered that he hadn't emailed his professor his assignment. He'd handed in the physical copy, but his professor liked them to email the documents as well which he'd meant to do before being... distracted. Frantically scrambling to do two things at once, Lance had asked Jason to open his laptop for him and had told him his password. Jason had thought Lance's choice of password was cute and 'so like him'. Lance had demanded to know Jason's and he had told him with an amused smile.

The memory hurt him, his eyes stinging as he felt the sharp pangs of it in his chest.

“Then try it,” Shiro said, opening the laptop and hitting the power button. As soon as he had, he turned it towards Lance and he watched it load up, unease filling him. What would they find once they had gotten through the security? Would it hurt Lance even more?

Swallowing, Lance's eyes flickered over the screen as it popped up on the login part. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over, his fingers settling over the laptop, running over what Jason had said in his head. He felt reluctant to touch the computer. After all, the same hands that had... _touched him_ , had made him feel like _that_... those same hands had been on this thing. Lance didn't want to come into any sort of contact with them again, and now... He took another shuddering breath and let his fingers fall, quick and sure.

**Nosajxx1789**

With a sharp jab of the enter button, Lance leaned back before he paused, eyes wide. Lance was _sure_ that was the password, could remember how Jason had laughed at his childish password which showcased his love of Harry Potter, could remember his explanation as to why he'd chosen 1789. And yet... And yet...

Yet, Lance had failed, for the screen said, **Password Incorrect**.

“Maybe I hit a key wrong..?” Lance suggested and, slowly this time, he typed out the password he knew Jason had told him about. Doubts began to creep in. Had Jason lied about that, too? And he must have done, as the laptop told him that, once again, he had gotten the password wrong. “No...” Lance said, feeling relieved and defeated all at once.

“Ah,” said Shiro, slumping back into his seat. He heaved a heavy sigh. “I had really hoped...”

“Can't we get someone to hack it?” Keith asked, shifting forward on the couch so that he was balanced on the very edge. “You have forensic hackers, right?”

“If I take it to them,” Shiro said, grimacing, “I'd have to tell them where I got it from.”

“And you can't because you stole it,” Keith said, letting himself lean back in defeat.

“Procured evidence illegally,” Shiro corrected him.

Lance blinked. The word 'hackers' was slowly sinking in. _Hacking_ Jason's laptop – that was something that had been discussed with him before... His eyes widened as he remembered, only vaguely aware of Shiro and Keith's conversation.

“Isn't there someone you can take it to... _illegally_?” Keith suggested.

Shiro shot Keith a look. “I don't _know_ anyone like that. There's... There's only one person I know who could do this but... he's the other Deputy. I can't take this to him without getting him involved and I am _not_ doing that.”

Keith scoffed and Lance glanced up to see him rolling his eyes. “Fine. But there's gotta be someone somewhere. Maybe we could find someone online.”

“That's-”

Reaching out, Lance grabbed hold of the laptop's lid and closed it with a decisive snap. He looked up at his two companions, who had been startled into silence. “I know someone who could do it,” he said, trying not to show his excitement and dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how well the first part of this does, but I wanted to show them having a fun conversation about something other than werewolves, warring cliques, Jason and Keith being closed off. So I hope it worked?


End file.
